Auckland Poetry

“Edition 3″ features

Authors

Jan Oscar Hansen

Nicholas Alexander

New authors

Anna-Kaye Forsyth

Ramon Te Wake

Welcome to Auckland Poetry. We look forward to your contributions.

New design

The Edition is a slice in time from which you may want to read the site. Remember the site goes back from the present to the past as you go forward. Sounds like life.

We are looking out for more new voices - those who want to contribute to Auckland’s own on-line poetry event. We want to feature new poets on-film who want to collaborate. Register, contribute and write.

The War Weary

When I think of war I think of Falluja, massive firepower total obliteration till silence descends and one can hear blood dripping from the cross.

No heroes here only scarred and scared soldiers who will take this horror home and remember it;and for whom the war will go on in nightmares.

Falluja, here a miasma of fear obscure the ruined dwellings workers are rebuilding, but how do we repair a heart that has seen too much blood shed?

Doris Lessing has won the Nobel Prize for Literature.

As the persistent sound of her phone ringing came from inside the house, Ms. Lessing said that on second thought, she was not as surprised “because this has been going on for something like 40 years,” referring to the number of times she has been on the short list for the Nobel. “Either they were going to give it to me sometime before I popped off or not at all.”

On A Day Like This

Parked in a side-street, decided to walk into the town centre to buy my newspaper; legs ached, so very tired, and since it was July I wore shorts, my legs looked fine calf-muscles still strong; had I been a woman I would have said: “look at that man hasn’t he a pair of sex legs,a masculine Marlene Dietrich.” Perhaps not, but as I was thinking of her and Ernest Hemingway, they had loved each other, but never got around to do anything about it, I had walked out of the town wandering along a lane, made of sea sand and crushed shells, till I came to a crossing and at the left of it there was an enormous carob tree and under it heavy low hanging branches I found shade. Breeze filtered through the fleshy leaves making it cool; I leaned on its solid trunk and felt at ease with the world.

I was running up a very steep hill, light footed as an onyx, the breeze…me, the act of running was a joy. At the top I could see the glittering sea and to meet my love I raced down hill faster than a stone could fall, and on the flatland waved to farmers tilling their soil; and without pausing, at the beach, I dived into the sea and began swimming till all land disappeared.

I was at one with nature, around me circled happy dolphins, but suddenly, flecks of dark shadows appeared on the surfaceof the sea and it was cold despite the warm sun, I was utterly alone, my arms were thin and belonging to someone very old; as I throw my head back as not to drown my head hit the trunk of the tree, I looked out the sun had just gone down, but was still sending streaks of gold and orange across the sky. Back in town I thought of the lovely story of Adam & Eve, a pity that we’ll never know the name of the person, who wrote it; at a grocer’s I bought an apple and went looking for my car

A walk through the park does it
When it rains and then shines
there are trees speaking a foreign language
and some that, like trees, stand up straight
if I were a bird and alighted on a tree
I would want to know all about it
Trees have no idea what to do except
hang on for dear life
the corruption of innocence happens commonly in clear daylight
there is nothing you can do when its a tree that has bent on its resolve
but a will of the wisp dragonfly is easy to brush aside
its far more likely to have taken the time to explore avenues of escape
it has darted this way and that
made a flute whistle under the willow
and sucked fig sap from the tree
nothing was out of range by extending its filament wings
new ground appeared but it never settled very long
so its ideas were grand and tended to be forgotten
like enthusiastic laughter
And in between, we have the union of the King and Queen
Henry and Winifred the reigning monarchs of the monkey
These bipedal beings that breed huge families - they
grow roots and settle in the forest
some just sit there and stare at the trees
during the rain the wind pushes great branches about
they wheeze like aching lungs whispering a chorus
and yet minutes later its calm again
the sun clear and sharp
The monkey had developed a new trick
it could consider the tree, drink and flick
a dragonfly onto its waiting tongue
the trick was to be both quick and still
Its luck improved with the
development of skill

14 October 2007
9:50am

A Weather Forecast

It is slowly raining in New York City today, bigdrops lazy fall,roll along42^nd streetpick up dust, collide with other drops and become dirty water that runs down a sewer hole with vertical bars.

Hudson River runs full too, much rain upland, and
New Jersey, where Tony lives, got a drenching too, Mr. Soprano slouches in his pajamas feels ancient at 47, and worries about the future

In the City, where the absence of the Twin
Towers is still seen, the
Central Park need a good soaking; a big rat put its snout through the vertical bars, looks up at the mournful sky and sighs.

Rangitoto

You emerge,

Upwards from water,

like the hump of a whale.

Like a grass-stained knee,

breaking the water surface in a bathtub.

But your smooth greenness,

belies your dirty red rockiness.

From Takapuna’s shore,

I can hold you in my hand.

But adventuring to your summit

feels like forever

when you’re a child.

I remember walking

in dehydrated step

short legged.

Red,

with prickly heat.

You can’t even see anything,

most of the way up.

Its just another bush walk.

Until the top.

And then,

all this effort expended,

for a view

that’s a dime a dozen anyway.

Copyright © Anna-Kaye Forsyth 2006

Senryu

Diamonds are forever

But you’ll not always be there

To see their sparkle.

Oxjam Event

OXJAM Open mic/Jam Night

Wed 24th October, 8pm

Roasted Addiqtion Cafe, New North Rd, Kingsland

Performers $2.50, non-performers $5.

Come out and add your voice to help make trade fair. All proceeds go to Oxfam who will match our efforts. Homemade jam for sale too.

To register to read or play text OXJAM + your name to 027 203 4847 or show up on the night and put your name down.

Cheers.

Anna Kaye

Poetry Live

from 8pm, Tuesday October 16th, 2007

at The Classic Studio, 321 Queen Street

(upstairs, next door to The Classic Comedy Club - just up from the Town Hall)

Door charge: KOHA

Open Mic (5 minute max)

MC: Renee Liang

featuring Guest Musician Fiona McEwen at 8 pm

with Steve Terry on guitar

Singer/songwriter and rhythm guitarist, Fiona McEwen’s unique, melodic style can be

described as “contemporary folk/pop/rock with a touch of flamenco”.

Fiona McEwen has been writing songs and playing music most of her life. Having studied recorder,

percussion, piano and viola while at school, in 1986 she sang backup in a band “Pacific Roadshow” which toured

around the South Island, and started learning the guitar and writing her own songs. After bringing up

three children, Fiona launched on the Auckland open mic scene in 2004 and has since performed at open mic nights

including Suede Bar, Diablo, Grand Central, Forde’s Front Bench, PR Bar, Snatch and ‘Speakeasy’ at the

Classic Comedy Bar, and at city markets, folk clubs, festivals, including Prana New Year Festival and Titirangi Festival

of Music, and various venues including Corban Estate Arts Centre, The Wine Cellar, Sky City, The Patriot,

The Occidental, Elevation Cafe and The Dogs Bollix. Fiona was also the featured singer/songwriter on

“The Verona Sessions” which screened live on Alt TV in August 2007.

www.myspace.com/fionamcewen

Guest Poet: Charis Boos

“understated and clever, has an air of sophistication, she plays with words like a pro,
carrying listeners away with her imagery and styley metaphors”