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Category: Twitter Poems


The room is dimly lit,
she lies in shadow,
cold and still;
they sleep on the floor
beside her casket
so she will not be alone.

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I think of him as he packs his heart
for the road that lies ahead,
as he wraps the long night about her,
lights a candle against the grey light
and watches for the dawn.

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The albatross weeps,
its crystal tears fall
like spears to pierce
our hearts and rend
them in two.

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She waits, in the long night,
the sounds of the hospital ward
rattle the grey, half-light.
I am thinking of her.
She is thinking of tomorrow
with some relief perhaps that
at last the operation will be over;
a little anxious maybe,
for the road that lies ahead

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We remember the white feathers
floating across the roadside fields,
watered by blood and conscience,
nurtured by peace and justice,
the voice of passive resistance.

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Shall we dance no more,
no waltz or two-step,
no wild horses across
the wooden floor.

Will we sing no more,
no anthem of joy,
or a song of longed-for love,
I am broken to the core.

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They gathered for the song,
for the chance to sing in
their own voice, to soar
beyond the ordinary, to
stand in harmony; such
is the wildest dream.

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He came, a bedroll and
a cooking pan hoisted on
his shoulder; he was looking
for that peace, a reason to obey
those who said they had
the rule over him.

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My city life is waiting
far from this place
we made our own
above Ruataniwha;

I must leave you here
cradled by the ocean,
and make my way in
the company of old
friends to street corner
cafes and towers of
new songs.

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