Oamaru
Oamaru, rail-head and port
is not really for the jolly.
One could though
catch a glimpse of the Frame girls
gazing into a shop.
Over the streets, the cobble-stones
the post-colonial flows onto
the colonial:
the tragedy
of Janet Frame.
Ian MacNeill
Sunday, November 6, 2011
INTERNATIONAL INTERIOR - My yellow English Coffee Pot
I espresso the coffee
and pour it into
my heated coffee pot
then I pour the coffee in its thick flow
into my Japanese copy
Viennese demi-tasses;
they almost tremble on their tiny saucers.
and pour it into
my heated coffee pot
then I pour the coffee in its thick flow
into my Japanese copy
Viennese demi-tasses;
they almost tremble on their tiny saucers.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
LANDSCAPE
Middle Harbour: Humid Day
Settled under a yellow-grey film
the headlands wilt towards
their bays,
water as reflective as lead;
something will stir
in the canopy.
Settled under a yellow-grey film
the headlands wilt towards
their bays,
water as reflective as lead;
something will stir
in the canopy.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Interior: North Shore, the Twenties
Aquamarined fireplace,
catching up indigo cushions
on white upholstery,
a small landscape, plainly framed
on the wall,
a whatnot table bearing a terra cotta pot
flourishing a fern.
catching up indigo cushions
on white upholstery,
a small landscape, plainly framed
on the wall,
a whatnot table bearing a terra cotta pot
flourishing a fern.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
STILL LIFES and INTERIORS
Dutch Kitchen
The sun falls in
warm with tea
and these biscuits,
even the slate flags are warm
under the hooked rag rugs
replicating maps of the old Empire.
The light catches on
the Delft jugs,
radiates the blues and the white
of vases and cannisters,
jugs and saucers.
Warmthe flows
through
some Dutch kitchens.
The sun falls in
warm with tea
and these biscuits,
even the slate flags are warm
under the hooked rag rugs
replicating maps of the old Empire.
The light catches on
the Delft jugs,
radiates the blues and the white
of vases and cannisters,
jugs and saucers.
Warmthe flows
through
some Dutch kitchens.
Monday, October 3, 2011
contemporary miracle
The miracle of taps
which turn on the soul,
let flow inspiration
in gushes and streams,
maybe rusty at first
but always
running clear.
which turn on the soul,
let flow inspiration
in gushes and streams,
maybe rusty at first
but always
running clear.
Monday, September 19, 2011
For those who doubt they are poets
Star Struck
Fixed for your moment in the sky’s turbulence,
its rose gold steadfastness
amongst the violet, mauve clouds, its highlights
lost and skipping battering –
our star,
the writers’ star – ‘Evening,’ to Coleridge,
apostrophes to Keats –
certain you could set your course
but for the wheeling of the Heavens,
the dealing of the winds,
the fickleness of clouds,
the waxing and the waning,
the thinning and plumping
of the lemon wedge moon,
the strawberry moon,
the bitter cold sliver of moon
ready for a teacup,
a g & t,
to decorate a fillet of fish
but for the wavering.
Take note of its presence,
fear not its failure,
trust to its shine
even up against the silvered brilliance
of the full moon,
the blue moon,
the headless moon.
the headless moon.
Trust to its rising,
its course,
its setting,
trust to its hovering,
its hiding,
its always taking its place
in the zodiac,
in the galaxies,
the constellations
there in universal space.
Do not ever be deluded
into thinking
things mean less,
that the penumbra
is an after effect
of the source.
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