From hills and orchard row to the Queen’s chain
plume the toetoe, the ponga’s silver gild -
in planted grove and fertile dairy plain
droved is the fatted calf and the earth tilled.
White breasted native wood pigeons cooing
leap bearing fruits and leaves to feed among,
and up above in splendid chorus wing
the tui, bellbird, and grey warbler song.
O’ to see that autumn sun’s gentle fade
on the dew shine of fallen crown of leaves,
and macrocarpas betwixt light and shade
when April rains fall its bowers and eaves.
Soon the solstice will a changing invoke
and idle woodfired stovepipes fill with smoke.
Written: April 1996
File Number
364 was especially hard to deal with today.
The worker made a check in the empty box.
She used red ink.
Wife beater,
drinker,
abuser,
low-life scum.
There were... more than one,
of each and a mix of all.
Spices for a bad recipe.
Too many files for one night,
one day,
one week,
one month,
one year...
one lifetime!
The young woman stopped at the corner.
Looked both ways.
No one around.
She turned...
and droved north.
Three miles.
Two miles.
Home.
A big place with lots of space.
Gardening, and animals.
A gentle spirit,
to unwind the unkind.
Stopped the car.
Got out.
Opened the trunk,
and smiled.
Potatoes,
tomatoes,
Rummy cube at night,
again and again with such delight.
Numbers on paper meant...
very little to anyone.
No one cared or stared.
But others would be ...
happier and well-fed.
In the dark he lives, rusted, turned into ashes
Black are those ashes from the heart burned the most
Those very woods provide shadow to his grave
Where he wondered in search of thy love
For years he roamed in the woods
With just a dreamful sight of you in his mind
Loving the virtual you in the sky and in the trees
Feeling your beauty in the sand below covered with flowers
With all the passion he possessed in love for thee
The only girl he ever loved from the core of his heart
What was it that droved him so far
To do the thing that no man would imagine
Best thing he might have ever done, for world so wrong
The only reason, the only thing is because love is so strong
A man grasping a stick walks along his route.
Houses with no foundation built to there specifications.
A village boy who arrived here get’s hold of some binoculars.
He looks through the lens in search of the river wild.
I will keep on looking he confesses until I can see it.
The tea break of a lifetime people took they wish they didn’t.
Cars that droved were being pulled by the force of nature.
Small kids weeping, parents in search of there little angels.
We had a heat wave but did not want to soak to the ground.
A foundation broke down scattering thunder for everyone.
In search of the missing voices but found empty closets.
My lens is drenched say’s the boy how can I see the river wild.
I need to inform everyone the event of a lifetime.
Identify the loved ones that were yours say’s the uniform man.
I would really I would but which one is mine can you tell me.