A collection of my autobiographical poems |
I Far from where Hillary 'knocked the bastard off', rise peaks that conquer the horizon, beckoning the intrepid, the brave, the fatally ill-prepared... II Some sleep, undisturbed by the passing eons, while others hiss and belch, spewing molten rock and ash to splatter and scar their slopes. III Taupo, youngest global supervolcano, hides simmering tantrums 'neath waters stocked with trout, tempting fishermen and complacency. IV Glittering black sands, remnant from Waitakere (cremated long before records began), provide vivid contrast to golden east coast beaches. V Rolling green hills, dotted with the white and tan splotches of livestock, send a soul-deep sense of peace. VI Small-town hospitality, local bands playing gigs in community halls, that brogue that strengthens as you head south, and the simplicity of rural life. VII Civilised society with an English veneer and a quirky sense of spunk and survival in Christchurch. VIII Wellington takes no prisoners, with a brusque wind and a taste for politics. IX Auckland fancies itself a careful blend of high society, expensive coffee, smashed avocado and nightclubs for those who overindulged... on caffeine. X Wines, from Waiheke, Waitakere, Marlborough and beyond... Sumptuous reds, bold whites, and delicate rosés to satisfy the reveller, the amateur and the truly discerning palate, no' necessarily in that order. XI The commuter ferries from Waiheke and Devonport just a few of the boats on the Hauraki Gulf, 'city of sails' no misnomer. XII Fishermen catch kai moana for dinner, a staple of New Zealand cuisine (fine dining meets fush and chups) and embedded into local culture and lore. XIII Sampling Maori tradition, barefoot on a marae, surrounded by towering wooden sculptures that speak of ancestors and times long past. XIV The haka following the national anthem, an acoustic display of might rattling the stadium before another All Blacks Rugby World Cup triumph. XV Endless black skies that reveal the astonishing Southern Lights or the Southern Cross constellation amid starlit heavens. XVI Moreporks and kiwi send calls through the night, until dawn brings the plethora of birds that dominate the aural landscape. XVII Imagination abounds in Middle Earth, where wannabe hobbits sip ale at the Green Dragon Inn and stumble home to houses under hills. XVIII Adrenaline soars as bungee cords snap back, rafts plunge down waterfalls, and parachutes float far above New Zealand. Free verse. Written 19 September 2018. |