I come to this little cove often -
no work, I have time to burn.
See Asians plunder its foreshore,
I still fish - show no concern.
Red-bill seagulls fly in circles,
fight over scraps they have won.
Never giving a thought to Icarus
who flew too close to the sun.
Soon a woman wanders over
and asks me what I’ve caught.
I tell her nothing yet but “you’d
be a great catch” I thought.
I know the swallows smirk at me,
my appearance they detest.
I cast my line and ignore them
(or at least I do my best).
Things start spinning in my head
like what it’s like to drown.
Did King Neptune sit on a throne
and did he wear a crown?
I come alone to this place often
to remember and reflect.
A place of beauty and meaning,
a place where I can forget.
Written: 1992
———
Ladder Bay is a sheltered cove in
the northern beaches of Auckland
New Zealand not too far from my
home in the East Coast Bays.
I know you so well now
that I can instantly
capture your moods.
Watching
as the tide ebbs -
you regretfully reveal
hidden treasures.
Children with small nets
probe into
your very soul,
and seabirds
plunder your bounties.
If I listen carefully
I can hear you cry.
Oh but the tide incoming
is a different matter.
Water gently
chuckles through
parched crevices,
small creatures return
where they belong.
Behold, seaweeds dance
in joy, and
once again
rejuvenated
you count your losses,
lick your wounds.
Written: circa 1994
———
Gull Point is in the East Coast Bays of
Auckland, New Zealand. An old haunt.
Pain abates. A silent love zigzags
through his bullet wound. He is an
Indian mercenary fighting for the
Allies. He was born with a rusted
iron spoon in his mouth. Hunger
made him a soldier. He’s fit, fights
again for the alien cause. Her eyes
trigger his heart. For the first time,
he longs for an armistice. He seeks
for her in the surgical spirit smelling
reverie. A roaring war craft brings
him back from that French nurse.
A dumdum bullet pierces his chest
just before Germany signs! Streets
roar in rapture. Flags flutter above
the neglected agony. The stillborn
love is coffined. A war win is a
celebration over a variety wounds.
Lest We Forget Poetry Competition (Auckland War Memorial Museum) winning poem.
First published in The Literary Hatchet (Pear Tree Press, US).
frangipani
did you imagine I could leave you
trapped in quick drying cement
locked forever on a bed of strangers coral
with only sea spray falling on the reef
to mourn your passing?
no my friend
you're coming back with me
precious cargo safely stowed
freight forward
flight 89 climbed above a shroud of cotton cloud
held us softly all the way to Auckland
going home
in a simple honest box
the way you were
going home
strewn all over with our last farewell
“Luckily I've got an adventurous gene, as life
in a wheelchair is full of the unexpected.
I was a keen runner, climber and [the life,
An] all round outdoor addict, but, [devastated,
I] fell off a cliff and became paralysed [badly]
from the chest down. With friends [and love],
creativity, and [stamina], most things [happily],
are still possilble, and thanks to [the above],
…to those ingredients I have a [fantastic
and a] pretty extraordinary life.” Karen today
Is involved full time in the cycling athletic,
And in Rio won gold in the time trial bray.
At London 2012 she took home the silver,
For the women’s road time trial in H1-2,
Because she hand cycles, so is a low lier,
And so in the Auckland Worlds, gold too.
On a flight to Auckland one day
A mother over hearing her son say
Cats and Dogs can have babies
Can planes do that maybe
Ask the attendant, see what she says
So off to the attendant he asks
Is it possible that planes do this task
Did your mother tell you
To ask me if it's true
Tell her to tell and not mask
As the little boy was walking away
Following him the attendant did say
No baby planes you will find
Qantas pulls out on time
Ask mum to explain this today
.
Written about a Joke I heard ;-)
When sunset ushers a sky violet blue
At the first star’s light, my thoughts are of you.
And when I gaze into the moonlit sea;
Lights dancing on water, you are with me.
When a lovely flower bends to the breeze
I picture your face, so eager to please.
As I fly away to a distant land
You dwell in my heart; I’m at your command.
I love your deep voice and things that you say,
And ways you miss me when I am away.
I don’t want to extinguish this fire,
Though it consumes my mind with desire.
I long for the moment we’ll reunite
And I'll share your kisses throughout the night.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4hsC0nRvZM
Song: Leaving on a Jet Plane
This poem relates to the song perfectly because I was always leaving on a jet plane
as a stewardess for 34 years. I met my husband on one of my flights in December
of 1979. We were married In December 1981 and the most difficult part of our
marriage was me being away 4 days at a time while flying down under to Sydney,
or Auckland, or 3 day trips to Japan. My thoughts were always with my husband and
children.
(6th May 2002)
Oh! Upon this day with the saddest eyes
I with regret farewell Auckland City,
To depart with the fondest of goodbyes
Of its people and sea shores pretty.
Although not a child of thy civil womb
You took in a desperate family,
My adoption the fruit of your spring bloom
In return labour given readily.
I leave within your care my youngest son
A Kiwi lad if any he’s become,
Our different accents becoming spun
Like the seed of one’s culture ne’er succumb.
So farewell Aotearoa farewell
Now is the hour a tale of you to tell.
© Harry J Horsman 2012
My father was a preacher
stood for everything good,
took my mother’s virginity
I was born to the sisterhood.
They left me on a stairway
a ghostly place to be,
down some old back alley
near to a South Auckland quay.
Found I was in the morning
by someone going to work,
he decided to keep me
this understanding old Turk.
Owner of a coffee house
down town in Branston square,
grew up I guess lucky
by someone born to care.
He gave to me his name
that stands above the door,
a photo of me in a frame
in a basket full of straw.
So here I am heavenly blessed
all down to one lucid day,
with a name ne’er to rest
Smokey Joe’s Cafe!
© Harry J Horsman 2012
(CASUALTY EXTENDED MIX)
Surrealistic walls were my
horizon
an oppressive ceiling my
opaque sky.
An angel came to comfort
me
she even affords me a candid
smile.
Within deep brown eyes
a sparkle
content my hand in her’s
to lie!
Her devotion with the
needle
took away the bloom from
my face.
Southern comfort in
“Middlemore”
The true meaning of
life’s race!
Many years I guess
I’ve wondered
if a moment like this
to transpire.
A dress rehearsal for
abolition
heavenly ticket to
hire?
My worldly domain surrounds
me
illusions of hopefully
“What is right.”
It took only an
instant
to convince me that
night!
Living is just a
predicament
in which one just plays
a role.
Yet here in
casualty
a halfway house to
console.
Ethical, malign ne’er
questioned
No! Discrimination
here.
Just an awesome labyrinth of
diffusion
within an earthly
pier!
© Harry J Horsman 1998
A True story
Middlemore Hospital South Auckland New Zealand
I walked into there off the street with an heart attack.
I was a lucky one i guess?
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