Poems posted by the poets

Well, I have found that most like the social network on poetry.org.nz – where your stuff is reviewed by editors for possible inclusion on New Zealand Poetry.org.

While I change the nature of this site (I keep getting back to it, but those two sites have outdone this one) enjoy the above. Will be back here soon with a new set of ideas to to return Auckland Poetry to greatness.

It would be good to hear from anyone with comments or suggestions of how this site should work best for you. Do you want to see how many readers your own poems get, or show it for all poems?

Probably a mandatory read for all linguists, words that we need to stop using according to these English poets.

Poetry Live 28 June 8pm – 11pm at Thirsty Dog
with guest musician Karen Hunter / Hunter Karen
and guest poet Jack Ross

Hunter (alias Karen Hunter) is a superb musician with an extensive history of playing all around New Zealand. Equally comfortable in poetry and song, Hunter is a favourite at Poetry Live – and with good reason. More information can be found at www.karenhunter.com. For example: Hunter’s work can be described as gritty jazz/folk. Songs are infused with dirty blues grooves using spoken word poetry and jazz scatting, creating dynamic memorable performances. Hunter’s primary instruments are vocals and acoustic guitar, incorporating rhythmic backing tracks using percussive loops made with ‘found objects’, guitar and voice.

Secret guest poet no longer secret!!! JACK ROSS will be reading from his LATEST BOOK – Scenes from The Puppet Oresteia. More info at: http://mairangibay.blogspot.com/2011/06/reading-tomorrow.html

This is going to be SUCH a good night.

MC Penny and Miriam

Open Mic. Koha Entry.

The Poet who started Poetry Live has died.

R.I.P David Mitchell.

I sing th green branch
th lost hymn
to earth’s green blood
& sap
& slime
to hold back time…
let me here give praise & tongue
to your bright flesh & hair & bone
to mouth & nostril / salt & lime
to breast & belly & that cool line
from throat to thigh: to all yr mouths
& voices / winedeep / lovestung
to silken down beneath th sun / about
th nipple
& all along th length of supple spine…
so hold / time ! & let us stand
since we are naked &
th blood is up
stay your bitter hand !

- Dave Mitchell

(as posted on Facebook by an Auckland Poet).

http://davemitchellpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/06/dave.html

http://www.poetrylive.co.nz/coming-up.html

Strolls with men
Moves like men
Observes time
Possess political acumen
A polyglot.

Sits as she wish
One leg on the other
Or kept wide open.

Thwarted my male look
With a NO.
LET THE WORLD CHANGE
For an I LOVE YOU.

Proud bossom
Naughty butts

A pass at her
In a crowded bus ,
Your genitals suffer.

Midnight.
Coimbatore.
100 feet road.

In the terrace
Tried to grab
She smothered
My cheeks.

Never believe men
Preach progress.

Violin in tune
I try to be immune
To the call made today
That I’ve played out fo key.
To quote
My aunt spoke
“It’s like this, not like that!”
As I quivered on the quaver,
“Listen,” she said,
in a menacing tone
“I’ll show you how you’ve been playing
and how you should be playing”
“The music as it was written!”
…But those great composers were smitten
with a love of changing the key
and I had to play it, yes me,
from beginning to end,
and endeavour to mend
My wayward violin
With aunt, mother and me.

By Sarah-Jane Smith

Copywrite@Sarah-Jane Smith

The tenacious old lady with her blood red nails
A real crowd pleaser
She comes out in time for the party scene,
Makes a grand entrance in all her glory.
Every Christmas she comes out
marching up shorelines and down into valleys
making an easy chair for the passerby or the swimmer
Putting on her lippy while psing for the camera
doing the twist for a eager audience
The local birds enjoy her hair pieces
and are often found in amongst her best
She remained on the coast where all the fun was
preferring the brighter colours to her more sombre relatives
Then after the party session settles
She gladly retires for rest and relaxation

by Sarah – Jane Smith
Copyright@Sarah-Jane Smith

Pearls of fantasies shine in the waters of hope
That February turned tears to.
We will certainly free weakened hands from the ropes
If wonder is all that we do.

Let us build a small ship as a shelter-to-be
And paint it in colors of spring.
It is madness so sweet to spend life on the sea;
I will turn to a siren and sing.

In the song of my heart that will beat twice as fast,
Your own inner voice will reveal.
Reminiscence I’ll crave is for ages to last,
I’ll gift you a moment to steal.

I’ll paint your sweet portrait with tightly shut eyes
With pleasure whenever you ask.
Though hands ever shaking and colder than ice
Do find it a difficult task.

I’ll cherish the portrait and hang it above
My empty not warm enough bed
To guard all the secrets of mystery love
And clear the mess in my head.

The mirror that’s placed on the opposite wall
Will certainly add to its charm,
My room and your portrait will turn to one whole -
This place will incur no more harm.

Video taken of release of Live Lines in 2008 at Poetry Live, Auckland. You can find Poetry Live on Facebook here

the tsunami
the water has no choice
it is the land beneath it that rises
and displacement is the consequence
it is definite
as you turn your eyes change
the dynamics of motion
clouds wait in the vacuum

not so much a single irresistible force
but millions of forces all determined and
brutal slamming bodies into buildings

cars jostle, terrible drunk teenagers
deserting a train wreak
imagine the terrible catastrophe
a grandmother with her caged bird
final company

relentless finality
churns up history
folding and melting it

the man standing still as the water rises each second
the large vehicle drives past him on the bridge
no chance for decisions to emerge
the floating church
and that boat smashing into floating rooms
of a family home