General

Poetry Versions 2024

Memories Magazine

Paradise              

For three days, I slept on the beach,

living on shellfish and bread baked

by the old Kuia who lived close by                               

in Mckays Cottage.

I watched refracted light

reflect from platformed shores,

as water birds flew to the tidal reaches

outside the lagoon, on the splash zone.

When the beach waters retreated, much of

the plankton from the sea lay ensconced

on rocks, but tussocked  grasslands on

distant dunes complimented mangroves,

with coloured blends of splendour.

A wild cat sometimes showed its presence,

then disappeared into green flax leaves,

where small fledglings squawked,

as birds fluttered over the black bush stems,

and fed off the nectar from the pink flowers.

This was paradise where patterned

clouds descended over distant horizons and

insects and minute spores lived, emerging in

beauty.

 James Fagan

40 Chippendale Cres
Palmerston North
jjfagan26@gmail.com

A Cat stalks at night          

The tom cat streaks through mosaic paths

through hidden alleys and a creosoted shed,   
a tabby warlord lost in shadows
where fanciful gardens grow
A gnome stands indifferent, decrepit
as the tom creeps among the bugs
where festive flowers show their pride
and rodents squeak their call
There is no silence among the dew drops,
only natures mystic cry;
where birds wake some who sleep
and a mouse will soon - on cat claws die
The tom - scabbed nosed – sniffs the air,

with a feral, scraggy in a distant yard
he stands poised,
like his approaching cousin
then creeps closer with a direct stare
He makes no excuse for feeling wasted,
but will fight,  

liveing a life that is putrid

Jagan Fagan
40 Cippendale Cres
Palmerston North
jjfagan26@gmail.com

Night Dance

You dance in Rock 'n Roll glory

in black dainty shoes

Smiled and squealed of vibrant fun

You looked for me, who stood watching

The music thobbed it's growling beat

and supper waited

The hall laughed with a happy joy

Full of spinning 

Boys on Bikes ( Roadrunners 1970 ) 

Those hangers protrude upright,
above the chromed forks,
that take their own slant.                        
The boys
trace the highway
on their Triumph bikes.                              

There class is shown,
when they face                                           

the onslaught                             
in the dust,
on the off-side verge.

To the left
they come again, scattered-
then gather-

as the children peep,
looking at the bike boys ride.


54 Chev

An exodus of tarseal                                     

goes backwards
under a hot, purring chev.

The ongoing thrust,
of a Black 54.                               
Chugs a grunting pump
or drowsy throb, mumur.

The listless peddle                                          

kisses down.                               
Pushing her forward
at a rascally pace,                                                   
on the straits of Takapau. 
Her thrusting carbs make her rip,

as she burns to the sea.

James Fagan
jjfagan26@gmail.com