Auckland Poetry

A Day When Nothing Happened.

A perfectly quiet day is coming to an end no breeze rustles
amongst green leaf that have got a shimmer on from
the pale sun. The almond trees that have been allocated
the best place in the sun have sprung flowers pink and white,
I can sense their boastful jubilation, and why not?
After being spindly and ugly for months they deserve
applause and, yes, a bit of envy from the less successful ones.

Rabbits on green run under stones I see more of them now
than my old dog lived, she was forever chasing rabbits, even
in her sleep. From my vantage point I can see the sun go down
behind, not the first sea but the seventh one, as this day is so
clear that I can see forever, but there are no clouds on the sky
for it to paint pink, but there is no need today.

And then it is night and dogs will bark from one village to
the next, perhaps they lament the burden of living in the shadow
of man, or they just like to gossip and have a good laugh on our
behalf. Should they stop barking one night I will wake up and
fear for my life

Years To Remember.

The war years, she said, was a good time, people
were glad of heart and helped one another, pigs
and chickens in the back yard had many owners,
as had rabbits in hutches on the verandahs.

The man who had a rowing boat caught codfish for
the whole neighbourhood. The middle classes went
hungry too, in bigger houses; and unskilled lawyers
learned, from clients, how to steal carrots and beans

And as the war years came to an end the occupiers
soldiers starved, asked for fish to cook in exchanges
for cigarettes or a bottle of booze, no one gloated; till
peace came and each one of us had to struggle alone.

Tanka  

Is it written somewhere? That those who bore the holocaust Shall be new masters And let the lambs of this earth Be scarified to honour them      

Senryu  

Valentine day Hiding married boredom Behind glowing words     

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.

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.

Tanka

Walked in blank streets
Bitter and confused cried:
Where is my home?
It’s very hard to understand
That the past has erased it

Tanka (Eyak, an Alaskan Indian Language)

A frisson of fear
The Eyak language died
Its speaker too
A minority language gone
Its silence is terrifying

Tanka

I couldn’t find the street
Where my lover used to live
A morass of houses
Anyway it doesn’t matter
Hopeless, bringing back the past

Tanka

The festive street
Now that bars and clubs have shut
Looks disillusioned
But is a dark hunting ground
Where a rats, caught by cats, shrieks