Anzac 2

At the bay
Of manuka and pohutukawa
There is above, the park
Of linden, maple, oak and gum.

In autumn colours
Today, stands a tree.
Several silver branches lean fallen
From the recent storm.

Into the sky are
Arrayed, expanding flights of
Green and yellow, warm pink and orange
Amid dying claws of brown.

But look down –
Among the fallen, the graves
Of dark leaves hanging on silver, the one
Bright heart red, trembling.

Anzac 1

The loose metal road climbs
up from the bay.
A walk in the park was a
walk through the past today.

Memory, as a whole, is a
warm capacity for feeling.
But every episode remembered
leaves me yet, in their multitude,
reeling.

A trusty stick sweeps away the
wreckage before me, the single
feeling returns, as a warmth
in the air I’m breathing.

Across my shoulders it goes.
The posture, if a pose, still
expresses and slows into depth
this feeling, with hands,
like bridge supports, holding both ends.

The rocking of my spine, the
sure grip of both arms, and
pressing on uphill, a sudden sense
shifts the scene, as it feels
like it’s a rifle I’m shouldering.

A soldier returning, a cup of tea
when I’m home, if not company then
some toast with tomato and pepper.
My mind drops into a grave
and sombre respect for the brave.

As I trudge up said hill, the past
no burden but the warmth of the
present, all homes, built on the warmth
of those who protected, yet were
subject to trouble, neglect, dejection.

Colours

soft blue
and maroon

that’s my
room, what

colours have
come to me

– – – – –

bottle green
i haven’t seen
you for a while

now in a blanket
you used to be

a knitted jumper
i could draw
down to my knees

– – – – – –

dolphin blue
i wish i was you

caught up in
childhood fantasy
feeling it were true

Peace

Peace is in the blue shoulder sheen
Of the pukeko, forgetting that it
May have been he who ate the ducklings.

Peace is in realizing the lawn grows in clumps
Like bamboo forests, with clear spaces between
Where duck’s feet fold the blades down like weaving.

Peace is in the way the fern fronds leap up
Like karate masters with multiple arms
Holding their elbows high in seeking the light.

Peace is in the dreaming sea sparkling tide
Quietly creeping along the mangrove shoreline,
Breathing through a blend of pale blue and green.