Auckland Poetry

Settling of Scores

My house had been empty for a long time no one came
here and that suited me fine I’ve got everything I need,
by looking out of the windows I can see life passing by.
Then it all changed a youngish couple moved in, totally
ignoring me, after all I’m the owner of this house, but
what could I do, I’m ancient and no one listens to us old
people any longer unless we are royalty or presidents
As my irritation grew I took to screaming, till the woman
said; “Did you hear that Fred? “What?” “That voice, like
someone is trying to speak to us. “Nonsense,” the taciturn
Fred said. In the night pictures took to falling on the floor,
Fred blamed it on tiny earthquakes. I got angry and threw
objects hard across the room when they were out… and
they blamed their little dog, which was my secret friend.
But the night when I stroked Linda’s hair till she woke up
screaming telling her husband that she wouldn’t stay in this
house a minute more, I had won. No one lives here now
save for me, locals say the home is haunted, suits me fine.
There are children outside they are here to feel deliciously
scared by knocking on my door, it amuses me think how
shocked they will be if I, one day, opened up and said Hi!

Easter Snow

This mortal tiredness I was glad leaving
the private clinic doing a job I had come
to detest, convert rich people into future
members of AA.

The world outside was quiet and white
as death, getting whiter still as it began
snowing again, when a bullet of despair
hit my chest and I staggered back.

At the hospital I dreamt of vivid colours,
but when snow appeared, doctors dashed
in a spindrift of white coats. I now live in
an olive orchard where red poppies grow.