Auckland Poetry

Poems posted by the poets

An Olive Branch

A very old olive tree, owned by a Palestinian,
so aged that it might have given shade to
the carpenter Joseph when he was resting under
its shade a hot august lunch time and contemplating
his sons’ futures, was bulldozed this morning.

No big deal you may say and I agree, everything
must come to an end, even olive trees, only
the perennial was got rid of because the Israeli
army’s snipers needed a clear view to the village
where people, who didn’t like their regime, live.

when she wallows in melancholy
she goes beyond..
what is expected,
hardened,
drowned,
and she passes by everyday
with her head down.
shoe laces untied and dirty,
hair uncombed,
tears welling up on those
black, shadowed eyes..
who could have known her optimism died
with her pride?

Indian Poem

As I waited the first cold morning of
the year awoke, streams of sunlight
came over the ridge;

so it began again, and as we cling to
our entities and hold on to our life, we
must surely hear the unsaid;

spoken by a saddest of hearts: we are
mere mortals, new days will arise and
fall long after we have gone;

and from my old school’s window
a child will see the blue mountain and
wish he could see its other side.

Stagnating in a cesspool of desolation
The gravy texture clings whilst insect
larvae hatches in-situ surrounds of habitat …
the regulation of homeostasis principles
fighting back from irregular control.

Wind movements scent putrid air
out of touch to unknown horizons.
Effluent seeps at corrosive edges
worn barren by trampled herbivore
grazing and footsteps of human
occupancy… rates of trophic state
undergo relational effect of changes;
light, water, temperature and nutrient
factors determine my health. I want to
flourish and breath oxygen again
in need of balance redirect to my life.

Copyright Deana Platt 21/1/08

Emancipation Planz

The Thoughtful.

I, an Afghan, looked up to the cold blue sky and
saw a gleaming US bomber plane, it dropped
its load on a village nearby. Smoke, flames and
dust, many people killed… non where Taliban.
My uncle and his two sons were killed and that
was sad, but I do understand, the war America
wedges is for us so we can be democratic and
free, have dollars in our pockets, drive big cars
and play basket ball. But lately I have been
asking myself, so many bombs and rockets fall
will I live long enough to enjoy the democracy?

The Last Farewell.

When I worked as an orderly at a clinic in New York,
(now shut) that used to look after celebs of the music
and theatre world, I met Marilyn for the very last time.
Dressed in a fur coat – and nothing else, hair untidy on
her breath the lingering smell of alcohol; behind her
a gelatinous, howling mob of reporters that wouldn’t
let go of their wounded prey they wanted to absorb
every little detail of her immense suffering, I showed
Marilyn to the lift, held my arm around her to shield
her from the cameras; pressed the button, it seemed to
take forever before its door opened, when it did and
she entered, I whispered: “I will always love you.”
She turned, and as the door closed, smiled and she was
beautiful again, just for me.

a fusion of particles happens in the mirror
the image of here and now
is lost before it becomes
then and when
photographs were used to remember
visits by the grandparents no longer answering
the phone
visits by generations past long gone
now here and now and opening
the gate walking up the path
about to knock on the door

Zen

Rainwater
In cupped hands
Seeps away



Zen

A rain drop
On an almond leaf
Reflects silence

The Future

When the last fishing boat docked it had only
a sardine and a haddock onboard; and eerily
the empty sea washed an indifferent shoreline;

the rich moved inland to escape the stench
of rotting seaweed that grew so thick that
one could walk form Calais to Dover in a day;

the poor took over what once were posh villas
but since they had no money for upkeep, houses
sank into ruin and stank as much as the sea did;

and the moneyed class said: look at the poor
we gave them fine housing and they have ruined
it all, their slothfulness is genetic you know;

the sardine and the haddock were preserved in
spirit so future generation could see what filthy
food people, in the old days, ate;

everyone is vegan now, the poor only have potatoes
to eat and that makes them fat, the rich live on
soy beans, cuscus and fried bananas.

Roses are dead
Violets are too
You wanted me back
But i didn’t want you
You wanted me out
And i said no
So you sit back and watch my show
You have big feet
Ugly hair
Awful kisses
I couldn’t bare
I told you I loved you
You told me too
But you never meant it
So now I hate you
You have no skill in this game
So give it up we know your name
We know your a liar and a cheat too
I could have given the world too you
But you gave up and never tried
So you made up stupid lies
You hurt me bad you hurt me deep
But here’s a promise I can keep
What ever you say what ever you do
Just remember I did love you