Auckland Poetry

Tanka  On a bail of straw The newborn child soundly slept When dawn brought light   To what now is Christmas Day We had a Saviour.   

Going Home

The white day was gliding into twilight details
clearer and shadows deeper, traffic lights sharp
green, amber and red and cars that had stopped
gleamed like a pearl necklace.
…
Ambulance and police sirens, there had been an
accident traffic down to a trickle, a small car
has hit a truck from behind, white sheet over
lady driver, her hand showed she had many rings.
….
Was she rushing home after seeing her lover?
an affair caused by the boredom of having too
little to do? Or just another middle aged woman
hasting home to make the evening meal?
…..
The pulse of the traffic is quickening, motorway
ahead car lights are on now the accident is
already forgotten, the woman was being careless
not thinking, we are safe and in our metal boxes.
—-

Peace & Quiet.

Walk took us to a nice street at an exclusive resort,
beautiful houses on both sides owned by people who
can afford two homes.
,,,,
Every house empty, watched over by security guards
that looked as commandoes; a group of workmen
keep the local nice and trim.
…..
There was a house for sale, we admired it greatly; but
it was my wife who said it first: “Necropolis! But what
are the swimming pools for?

A Cottage

I’m not taking up your space
this house is my home it’s made
of stone, built to last forever;

no children waiting for me to
vacate these rooms, when I’m
gone there will be layers of dust;

unhurried silence, sighing walls
bird song on the roof and insects
caught in a spider’s web;

I, a passing sentinel, came took
the job, roof and board, till another
soul comes and makes it a home.

Tanka

I wake up early
Think the new day’s lovelier
Than the one before
Sit up and recklessly laugh
It’s my bonhomie you see.

Tanka

Woke up cheerful
And I greatly worried why
Till the sense ended
And I was my grumpy self
Happiness is frivolous

Tanka (x-mass warning)

Santa brought us gifts
He had jolly good dram too
Claus was arrested
Didn’t drive his reindeers though
But crashed uncle’s old Volvo

Tanka  I wake up early Think the new day’s lovelier  Than the one before  Sit up and recklessly laugh It’s my bonhomie you see.    Tanka  Woke up cheerfulAnd I greatly worried why  Till the sense ended   And I was my grumpy self Happiness is frivolous     Tanka (x-mass warning)  Santa brought us gifts   He had jolly good dram too Claus was arrested  Didn’t drive his reindeers though    But crashed uncle’s old Volvo  

The Theft

A child was born, no not in Bethlehem, but in
a timbered home along a frozen Nordic coast
and since I happened to be there as a restless
soul with nowhere to go I threw it the baby’s
still sleeping soul and took it place.

Infanthood was a difficult time couldn’t do
anything by myself, was washed fed and sung
to. Closed my eyes and was a silent child;
I tried not to look at my mum since she said
I didn’t behave like an infant should

I began a new physical life, not as great as
you may think, as most things I do I have
done and said before, yet it was better than
being a homeless soul, not yet ready to yield
to the harp playing ranch -in- the sky, lot .

Lately though, the soul I deprived of bodily
life wakes me up at nights, tuneless chants;
“If your chewing gum loses its flavour on
the bedpost over night,” grins and cruelly
waits for me to lose my battle against old age.

Viva Cuba.

Fidel Castro, this saintly dictator, has the haunted look
of an old man who has looked down the abyss and seen
the churning grinder of oblivion; he clings on to twigs
of the tree of learning which is solid enough, but tends
to sway with the prevailing political thoughts of the day
and the new fashionable social philosophy.

He will be remembered as the man who brought a health
Service, money cannot buy, education for all, but he will
be reviled for not given his people the choice to choose
between 24 types of jeans and Mercedes for everyone.
As the express train of time hastens by, poor Fidel is left
on the terminal struggling to remember who he is.