Auckland Poetry.com

People dying,
Politicians smiling,
Children crying,
Voters sighing,
I can see them,
I won’t hear them pry.

Friends with contracts,
Complete contacts.
Plastic handshakes,
Not much at stake.
They are flawless,
Some are priceless,
Words are countless,
Confused and boundless,
I can’t dissolve this,
I won’t find myself.

life is split
between the day
and the night
leaves join
when its dark
and unfold as it
becomes light

tuesday morning
the sun is alight
and shining
like a sigh in
the drawn
curtains of
morning

the light in the sky
that’s dawning again
is so strange
the birds just cry
in strains of spliced
delight the dropping
leaves look like
their children
heading off
on their
very first flight

17 March 2009, Tuesday Morning.
Copyright © 2009 by Nicholas Alexander

The Town’s Buffoon

He sat fishing in the town’s small lake, too much
kindness and stale breadcrumbs had polluted
the water and fish had chocked to death; mind,
ducks looked happy as did rotund rats lurking in
the undergrowth by its bank. Someone felt sorry
for the fool, put two trout in his basket and said:
“I say, my man you have caught two fine fishes!”
The clown arose, reeled in line, hook and sinker,
walked home; where he fried his catch, listened
to tomorrows weather forecast on the radio,
diced carrots and peeled potatoes- fed his fat cat-
and chuckled to himself for no reason at all.

The Truant

Trying to flee Christmas I opened a wrong door and
fell from sky into a glossy stygian lagoon, swam to
its northern shore and saw trees dismal graveyard,
petrified and silent trunks lit up by hazy moonlight.
I walked to the lake’s eastern shore and witnessed
the easy birth of a day; a deer chastely drank blue
water when a brown bear came out of the forest
attacking me. I jumped into the lake the bear too
jumped in, a better swimmer, but as it was going to
catch me, I ducked, swam up behind it, mounted
the beast- like a cowboy- and gripped my fingers on
the liberal skin folds of its fat neck. Howling angry
the bear swam in circles but couldn’t shake me off,
when it beat swam for shore I let go, the poor brute
crawled ashore and tired scuttled into the woods.
I followed a barely visible track and came to a town
where kind people gave me food ( hotcakes, honey
and bacon,) a bath and a bed in a green room. I slept
for days , but when asked where I came from, could
only tell of a deer and a bear as my only memory.
To be an embryo inside a celestial dream feels fine
while I plan the newness of my life.

Stillness

This room, dirty windows and
pale squares
were pictures hung,
has no furniture,
dust on floorboards
dance to a tune unheard by man;
the beauty here is that of
eternal nothingness,
the essence of happiness is less,
yet many fill their
space with futile objects
because they can’t bear
the intrusive silence of bareness.

Stable home to live
Cheap, aint no rich person
Unpretty, not so massive
but warmth draws you closer.

Lines like scruched up paperball
does not fall
chocolate-coloured gazes upon you
with warm passion.
Ebony, vertical threads
drapes upon her shoulders
Tan covers the ivory
Cook Islander
She’s the most important person in my life.

Colourful, cultured sheets
reflects ethnicity
Variety designs for different personality
All for one, one for all.
Spoils us, unnecessarily
having fun with the family
enjoys family & friends visiting
wherever she is.

So secretive, quiet behaviour
surprises us alll
Little did we know
that’s she’s gonna go.
Blood transfusion, hopeless
it suppose to save her
Even when there’s no cure.
“Died of Cervical cancer”
never mentioned on her grave
should’ve been.
Bucketloads of water shed
so much
could cover the ocean’s bed.

Gracious,picturesque
lady
sad to see her go
Her time is due
but it came too soon
Unforgettable
just lay low
and rest in peace.

Written by Maria
Copyright 2008

Barefoot in the Sand

The beach, I used to walk here often years ago with
my dog- the dog is now dead and it is against the law
for animals to be on beaches- except for seabirds,
only because it isn’t practical to ban them, looks clean
and raked most of it is fenced in and belong to some
hotels. The bathing season hasn’t started I ignore signs
telling me I shouldn’t be here, ignore too a spy camera
mounted on a concrete pole. Ok, I’m too old to make
love in the sand, but I feel sorry for people who can
but are spied on and arrested for enjoying themselves.
Where sea washes sand it is easy to walk I turn and see
my footsteps erased by lazy ripples, it is like I never was
here, and I miss my dog. I will not be back here again
before the fall when the season is over, perhaps by then
there will be barbed wire and armed guards to stop me
seeing the sea I used to know so well.

Angels Too…

I didn’t believe it was possible, mind I had been away
for some time, angles growing old? In the fair Faro,
an old city in Algarve, Portugal she lives and used to
be as blond and pure as the ones one sees in fairytale
books, here where people are olive skinned and look
Arabic- which make them kinder than peoples who
live up north-. When she floated through my town in
the afternoon, people lined streets in the hope that
her smile would fall on them for luck, alas, no more.
Grey haired now, wearing slippers, bunions give her
great pain, she looks inwards which is a good thing
as no one recognizes her anymore. Smiled to her and
said halloo, that woke her up, she smiled back at me,
yes, the same angle is still in there just harder to see;
thus fortified by her glow I did my newspaper round.

Final Reckoning

Murky day in my valley the mountain which
Is a gigantic, petrified tidal wave of soil and
boulders, is obscured today should it liquefy
the vale will be a plateau with a story to tell
but no one around to tell it too, except for
mustangs that only cares about the quality
of the grass. Perhaps some of us would live
on in air pockets underground turning into
earth worms while looking for a light switch
we knew used to be on a wall while gulping
stale air, not grasping that we are doomed;
as a battery radio plays a dirge because
the king is dead like that should be our chief
concern on the day our valley disappeared.

Darkness absorbed her black tresses
inept to mask the deep seas
that looked intently at me.
This impenetrable night was deeper
than the black oceans in my garden
The squall had drowned and the tide ebbed,
the taste of the salty drops still lingered.

The oceans desiccated to the last tear,
left no evidence of presence
in the excuse of the cloaked night
the immensity of vast spaces
weighed me down,
as embodied lust disguised as love
rubbed salt on future wounds;
a gentle wind mimicked the muffled sighs,
the whining moment’s
Elusive entwinements.

The heartless train’s howl far-off,
left desolation’s tiny scraps
in the retreating station.
Her eyes soaked up distances,
the intervals stretching the strings of heart.
Melancholic baits of the scarred gait
swelled agony’s torture
The mind powerless to cope,
lonely-heart’s yearning for hope.

The dawn will lie to me
with out a hint of betrayal;
‘a dream within the dream’
where I will hear
a desertion’s tearing scream.