Category: Twitter Poems

The moon is angry,
black clouds attend its path
like smoke from a smouldering fire.
It rises over the city,
casts a cold eye over
a man and his blanket
cowering for shelter
in a CBD doorway.

The thorns and the weeds
of human identity –
from master and slave,
superior and inferior,
male and female,
lost and found –
appear to have strangled
the notion of role and equality.

When we had the hammer
we didn’t use it to build but to break
and now the broken pieces of racism, poverty, warmongering, child sacrifice and human trafficking
have become the crosses
of our own crucifixion.

The black trees stand close together,
the night is upon us and no path
can be seen, for the light has not
yet broken the darkness or sent
a golden shaft to penetrate
our hearts.

When the clock is ticking
against the broad horizon.
the pressure is on to live in
small segments of time,
to not look too far ahead
but also not to stop believing.

I wondered at the words,
and how they came to be,
he said it was
‘deep, mournful,
moving, explosive
and then, release’,
I didn’t plan it so,
that was just how
it wrote itself.

The rain smudged the faces
so they were no longer
the faces we knew
or had seen;
and the places
where once they were
were no longer the places
they had been.

The words were close
upon his lips
born from that true
and single kiss,
she answered
as he hoped she would,
she said yes to all of this.

At the top of Whakapapa
it was as high as they could get,
the wine was white,
the snow and mountain too,
but the bunch of roses
was red and starkly bright
offered there to you.

The sea is close upon the shore,
gull swoops low over the wave
with wing tip brushing the white foam;
the heart is close upon the home,
wind breathes under the door
as finger tips fall short of the touch.