Poetry New Zealand Publications

On leaving the youth hostal  
    Published Poetry New Zealand Issue 48

The boy maneuvered his pack over a home-made hose reel that lay halfway

across the hostel path. Nearby, a tap hung from a pipe on the side of the

house where it dripped incessantly.

At the letter box he looked at the morning sun and sea, which were set well

back, each blue and variegated.

Over the city, cranes slewed, raising and lowering their loads as some dog men 
stood in steel caps on flexing rusty steel, or balanced on other loads.

Some children looked smart in uniforms as they walked close by, with the

pedestrian workers who mostly looked fresh on the first morning

of the week.

To the left, a taxi stopped two doors further down the hill. The driver retrieved

luggage from the footpath while the passenger stood looking flustered and

annoyed. She stood close to where a tree branch had fallen the night 
before. Its leaves appeared marginally wilted on the parched

mown verge.

Then, two small cars raced up the hillside. The red one gave a tiny automatic

surge as it went ahead on the other side. It caused some loose leaves to flutter

away from an expired starling that lay in the gutter.

While the boy stood, he contemplated his journey to another place and thought 
about his next walk on the road.

A few remembrances from last year’s Fashion Show    

                                                Published Poetry New Zealand  Issue 47

The renowned, of high profile, sat in the front row, pondering

the first gaggles of grand euphoria, while hopeful

underlings endured on the hard forms.

The second exhibitors appeared carefree as they meandered

and zig zagged, externalising the outdoorsy look.

The third grabs had the perfection of Saville Row, were

bespoke looking.

Then, unfamiliar innovations erased former boundaries,

depicting new classical and revolutionary styles.

While new chatting and gasps caused muffled sounds with

the audience looking at the latest chic items and

accessories, extracting thoughts of va-va-voom.

Male models moved and stood in simultaneous silhouette.

Their swish frivolity shrieked glamour and entranced

mystique.

But eponymous hats, and silken scarves, echoed haute couture

as ladylike kitten heels reflected a new splendour.

A financier dressed in a docile pink looked distracted, as he gazed

into a fastidious crowd, while some discreet smalls struggled to

look relevant, appearing as fanciful mishmash.

Then, a boiled cashmere exhibited a moody aversion, causing frenzied

scenes that seemed ironic.

                                          

On walking to School            Poetry New Zealand  Issue 46  

A kid wandered along the road, wearing a uniform that had

long, uneven, bunch-up socks.

A crook feeling packed his stomach as he mulled over the new school

day and undone homework that lay squashed in his bag

with collections of plastic-wrapped food.

He looked at the school farther up the hill, close to the

principal’s small home. Both looked misplaced, as though

they were floating delicately in light haze.

He approached a small, tattered bridge that had a few boards

missing. A ‘slow down’  sign needed to be replaced as it hung

precariously on the first left pillar. Its printing was faded and

almost indistinguishable.

As he walked three metres onto the bridge, he caused loose boards

on the bridge deck to make small, bouncy movements. Then, he

stopped when flax leaves moved down on the creek bank.

On walking to the bridge edge, the boy noticed splinters on

the grayed hand rail that seemed like dust or insect barbs.

Each looked as though they were able to hook and hold small

passing things.

In the water, large creek stones lay submerged, looking like

tubby cats.

A small plane did an early morning flight, powdering its load

further to the west. Suddenly it tilted its right wing and began

turning to make another approach, but started jolting in the wind.

It then became obscured behind pine trees that cast shadows

forward to the ground, looking as though each had toppled there

because of bleak cheerlessness.

Farther off, a farm dog offered an unwanted commotion, causing

four ducks to fly off from the flax bushes, each looking confused

as they flew apart, before coming together to fly as a group.

Sparrows flitted their way in the opposite direction, but without

warning descended to the ground.

Then, with eyes peering forward and a few hands waving, a large car

approached. It drove up the small rise to the slowdown sign.

The middle aged driver had her hair styled, almost prim and

proper. It was freshly dyed and brightly coloured. 

The Farm Job        Poetry New Zealand  Issue  43

When I arrived,

I saw two boys

climbing in the trees.

A dog sat in the driveway.

It was shaggy looking,

with pixie shaped ears.

The sun sliced my eyes

from the trees above.

Then through my blurred vision

I saw an old man approaching.

Eight months later

I wished I hadn’t come.

The old man’s heart failed.

A Kaimanawa herd        Poetry New Zealand   Issue  43

A chestnut

bares teeth audaciously

bouncing he squeals short and sharp

then screams

The skies are frayed

with black puffs and garish blues

the erroneous prediction of a quake hangs

as ground hugging plants cling safely downward

The stock header has never known

the long stride of this man zoned

His dusty herd lazes

heads hung heavy looking

a mare lies sideways with laminitis

others are amenable

as he visits with a prancing gait

or stands collected

some mares are submissive

ears held softly backward

or moving sideways

as their tails flick

Kumara diggers         Poetry New Zealand   Issue 38

By the gate we waited;

we talked of the rain

and the rotting kumara

that were jammed hard down

in the wet black soil.

We sometimes

slanted our woollen

covered heads to the north.

Looked for the battered bus,

bought broken down,

a year ago.

A rough-looking bloke

appeared below

some wilting yellow trees,

above the far roadside.

He descended,

from about five metres up,

came over and talked

of the pittance he earned

in the eastern valley.

We were distracted

by a sparrow hawk

flapping close by,

making small headway,

its eyes fixed downward,

before dropping from the sky.

The bus finally appeared,

coming slowly.

It was the day we lost our jobs.