Into the beautiful Baobabs - Madagascar
These ancient trees are so beautiful, luckily many of them have survived throughout Africa as their pulp type wood has no value for charcoal traders. https://www.facebook.com/greenrenaissance
My days lately somewhat like this picture, even if we've been
living in a drought here in New Zealand. Trees dominate my
thinking nevertheless and they're the survivors, those trees
that have made it this far. I'm also dwarfed by economic and
political circumstances we're enduring.
Various people feel entitled to take as much as they can. This
greed and selfishness doesn't assist anyone, including them. I
feel like I'm preaching or moralising however so instead, I'll
post this poetry. It celebrates friendship.
'what
happens when no new bookshelves are bought?'
he writes
make
towers and arches and bridges.'
she's
quick like he doesn't recall architecture
'a
few editions pretend to fit kitchen
furnishings,
between stacks of plates
mutter
about appetites.
tomes
slide under tables up to who knows what,
while
others live in the car as if homeless.
determined
volumes dwell outdoors
near
the hammock or folding chairs
but
rarely risk rain.'
some
time stacked in cardboard boxes
books
home in bags
or
one in pocket
the other in hand the better bird.
he
enters bookshops reverently
chin
lifted but shoulders slightly rounded
reading-ready,
to
bow over pages
silent
chanting blessed ink.
in
glove with a paragraph
lines
knit into scarves
spectacle-fog laughter and he daydreams.
suit
tailored by superbly cut chapters.
fetish
akin to slow food,
coloured
covers picked
for paper
leaves.
between
lines invisible ingredients
opening
pages at random,
instant
or digging for meaning.
not
coffee but darker than tea,
drinking
to the health of carpenters,
toasting care and hold.
baked
true to what's good for us,
this
daily read and utter.
- - -
conversations
in bed and the bath
'her
sunshine stitch name
his
a gong from a mountain
obvious
to each other at a distance
but
they may disappear
neither
sees the the other entirely
held
in landscape'
she
speaks drunk with steamy air
to
a solitary room
tells
an invisible man the story of themselves
smiles
to think he could hear afar while sleeping
a
dream interrupted or caused.
car
radio songs hint meanings,
but
he's nocturnal hunter careful
his
answers most often hammers and darts
romance
a lone peak and lovely as snow.
'you're
the best boyfriend ever'
she
splashes
'i
make you whatever i wish
recalling
voice and walk and glare
a
few relics authentic.'
the
danger of making him holy.
an
imaginary lover arrives with tree tall stories
planted
in each footstep
the
density of leaves refusing a return home
'we
could love marooned here by fine deeds'
she
pours grey water into the drought garden
seedling
figures reach towards the light,
shadow
and wish unzipped.
- - -
Now I work lecturing Narrative Writing, (at lovely UNITEC),
also assisting a mentee with Page 2 Stage poetry and
performance so she can hopefully win a place at a festival
overseas, I find even less time for my blogging. I wish this
was not so, but there it is. Time's finite even if it's imaginary,
although I have the energy of some fantastic force of nature.
Tree seedlings still flourish true however and some are
ready for transplanting this April, kowhai trees. Anyone in
Auckland, New Zealand who would like a free kowhai tree,
please contact me through my facebook or other means.
 |
| photo is from http://www.coast2coastnz.com/?p=492 my seedlings are small |
Great to see this blog is nearing 7,000 hits, read
world-wide. Thanks for your attention, please feel free to
comment.
My latest book news here -
http://staplesrecipeshintspoetry.blogspot.co.nz/
No comments:
Post a Comment