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Clay Mask, Christina Conrad
Last days in Dargaville, Christina Conrad
Carole Nelson Phillips

Tui and the Wet washing

Smell of wet washing
sweet, in the willow basket
on icy uncut lawn; rises.

Spring comes,
the Tui screams in the Kowhai,
plunging beak into trumpet
cones of yellow.

Pegged sheets
flap in the wind,
bleached white shrouds,
to wrap again the shame
of another night



Untitled for RZ

on the window sill
voilet polyanthus
and a half eaten carrot
discarded, while
you searched
for words.
You asleep
curled up
on the tiled
floor
sounds from your
lips, blue pen
in your hand.

Mannie Seafont

Lifes Song
                              for Mary

Were I asked, to write the song,
'The celebration of all life'
I would dedicate it, to you my love.
The one who is my wife.

I'd choose a bright day for my stadium,
white clouds flying on the breeze.
all trees be my chorus,
let the wind blow through your leaves.

There'd be emphasis on birdsong,
and Larry Adler plays the theme.
The sweet sound of childrens voices,
accompanied by a babbling stream.

A rainbow for my curtain.
Stars above at close of show.
Autumn leaves cast on a zephyr.
the softest powdering of snow.

If I were called to write this song,
I would want it to be true.
So it would be the reflection
of the love I have for you.



Safely locked inside my head

High up a gnarled old plumb tree
In someone's secret place
There sat a tiny figure
Either dreaming or disgraced.

A little boy of yesteryear
With black and wavy locks
Grey matching shirt and trousers
and mismatched holey socks

Full of life and gay abandon
His laughter filled the air
If some disaster befell the place
You would find him somewhere near

He knew a bit of magic see!
He could put the chooks to sleep
Their heads beneath their feathery wings
Dreaming; not so much as a peep

He dug pits to trap wild animals
Lions Tigers too!
he had visions of one day selling them
to a Circus or a  Zoo

He dug a hole to China
Climbed mountains in his sleep
He once traversed frozen wastelands
Instead of counting sheep

And then there was the goldmine
Yep! he started it about here
and several weeks down the track
The Wilsons garden disappeared!

The little boy has left us now
But oh! he certainly isn't dead
you see the little boy is me no less
and safely locked inside my head.

Mike Neale

Lady I

The Lady had wings
She gave one to me
Together we soared
Contented and free
The warmth was enriching
The loving would flow
We planted a life together
that started to grow

With one wing each
We started to tire
The love slipped away
and we did not know.
She wanted her wing back
But I kept mine
now she flies in circles
I no longer fly

Sarah Reed

Casacade

naked sun
exquisite genesis
casting shiny pennies
endowed
with light
sentry of minutes
a stitch at a time
march
across calender
footprints carved
in eternity
"behold time is precious chosen ones"
time
retreats
petals tumble
see them fall


I lean

I fumble
awkward in this ocean of exsistence
too busy, too busy
I am thankful
sun apon my face
son in my heart
gentle hands clasping
I am not alone
these solitary wanderings
days uncoiling like string
gathered with care
a company of two
strong arms, still small voice
I obey beckonings
the whisper
I follow
this mighty voice, this murmur
oceans yield
mountains like wax
melting
I see what no one sees
I know
these shadows could never diminish the light
this destiny sure
I follow the path
diamond cut through wilderness
razor edge
ripples the air
a light so fierce
alpha omega
protecting
I lean



I crouch

I crouch
under the azure sky
gleaming
unstained by cloud
the naked trees
hollow of leaf
limbs upraised
boney fingers scratch your surface
in worship


Thomas Vincent

black trees, naked and blind of the sun

...An ode;
Strange ghostly bush
My soul I shall allow
to seep back into your streams.

As the blood of earth
As the blood of trees

Enshrined forever alive.
Unlike mortality; reality.
I musy go now, black trees;
Naked and blind of the sun.


Thousand year child

The sea rained down
lay down between us
as the withered walls
chatted quietly about us
she aged a thousand years
pale bones cold, turned to dust.

I giggled as a child again
played castles in the sand
Traded all my memories away
Entombed her bones within my hands.

Nothing can ever come between us
a ribbon of hard bone
tightly holds us
quietly controls us
as we wriggle
as a feotus once again



Parone Vincent

Open eyes October sun
Rising to the scorpion chief
Matai's son
Talofa, Pepe
Welcome young one
Hold
the river sands
will guide you to the land
of the dragon tongue sun
Hot burning beauty of ages gone
and still to come
Homeland heart
third born,
second son.
Proud, stand strong
cheif, Matai's son



Kath 'Benji Babe' Hayward Nathan

Ngatai

As screams come within walls
he arrives from water
falling free into arms which hold him
His crys are felt
His life is born
His watery tomb
now an open space of uncertainty

Hold me to my mothers breasts
wrap me in cloth
hold me father to your heart
cry tears for me
and speak my name
Ngatai Hararu Murray Tipene
If that is what you want I claim it
Now bathe me and hear me roar


A Healer

You may pass me, for I am alone
If I were to share the load
It may free me, release the weight
from off my shoulders and head
may ache no more.

But this journey which I embrace
is that of a struggle, but it
is mine to endure and mine
of choice, strike me with that
of force and you have forced nothing
but submission with tall walls.
Strike me with that of words,
touch my soul with your tongue.
Taste the sourness that consumes my mind.
Empty it of impurities then I am free
to fill it.
But first I need a healer
A healer of the mind.



A feeling, a mood, an emotion so smooth

                              to Steven Zeb

She falls like the snow
the wind blows
Separated leaves fall from trees
dead winter nights
Awakening to a silent bed
Focussing him in your head
Arms hold nothing instead
Time stops, weeks move
Sun sets
Sun flys to the moon
Stars shine
Like raindrops that fall from the skys
Tears that cry water
of water, of water
That taste of salt
of salt, of salt
kiss my cheek
move your tongue around my rain
you have my body
                                        now understand my brain




Doug Poole


Myth #1

cradle of whale bone

she was born
like every other, though
extraordinarily mother;
Made whale bone cradle

Father was sunset
who ran and hid;
His shell necklaces,
were acceptable greetings

placed around her gracious neck.
Scraping a bed for the night
with her hands. Far from the
whale bones.
sand achesthrobs beneath her nails.

How mother loved her.
How father ran the gauntlet.
her heart forming shore beds;
within a cradle ofwhale bones



Lemon tree

curdled yellow
nipples gnarled
knotted branches 
we piss on roots
"growth hormone formula"
gm food not
we please this tree
with pissful glee
suckle smearing
faceful twists of lemon
memories last
soo citric, soo acidic
we sit and think
of two lovers



Eyes talking

flames like waves siva
eyes that talk like fire
flame tides lick the sure line
body fains lost desire
eyes that talk like fire
devour both sweet and sour
the citric hearth rind
you shall never be my lover
" and should i dare sweet poison
apon my lips
damn me to soul asylum
'tis not the grave i fear"



Carole Neslon Phillips

Zoo

She remembers being 12
wearing a new dress
white fishnet tights,
shiny shoes,
standing in the long hallway
mother behind her
hands firm on her shoulders
keeping her in place

He, coming through the stained glass door
She, pushed 'pig in the middle'
between unspoken words
Closing the door behind her
shutting in the sounds of mothers tears
leaving for the day trip to the zoo
The polar bear cub
dead behind glass,
the rest of the day
empty of memory

Later, in the claw foot bath
shilling in the gas meter,
bruised, sore
she hears mother sob as he leaves her
remembers the polar cub
and nothing else,
rinsing blood from white tights


Mannie Seafont

The eyes of my only son

I never would have realised,
I'd ever been so young
Had I not looked and seen myself
In the eyes of my only son.

In these later years, I still seek,
the answers to lifes puzzles.
And pray to God, he'll need never smell,
the stench of a smoking muzzle.

Perhaps at last we've learned enough,
to impress upon our young.
That personal gain and glory,
are very seldom won.

That the gift of life he vests in us,
granted fom above.
Is a time of understanding,
of sharing and of love.

We need not condone anothers ways,
nor accept the things he says.
In order that we understand,
the role that he too plays.

This is a world of differences.
There are no two quite the same,
and only when that's understood,
will we cease to kill and maim.

Only when there is peace at our table,
in the sanctuary of our own house.
Can we ever hope to influence,
the beliefs of someone else.

No, I never would have realised,
that I was the lucky one.
Had I not looked and seen myself,
in the eyes of my only son.


All contributed work are copyrighted to the poets.
Al works used with poets kind permission.


Editors note:

"I think Mannie ends this issues feature of NZ poets eloquently and words, I hope we all take something from.
I want to thank all the featured poets for the bravery, the power, the words. "
Arohanui
dougpoole