Open poetry section entries

the smell of the sweet sea breeze hits you first or the pollen of those pine trees, golden dusted all over your car and pavement, hayfever season yet again for those who get prepped with their battle plan of medication. the lillies in their beauty and splendor, the sparrows watching waiting for their breakfast from the powerlines, the heavy dew lifting from the fields as the sun hits the peaks of our ranging hills. the sounds of the rolling waves, a tui calling and you hike around in lockdown one hour of exercise they have said but to be blessed that we get that is amazing. the buzzing of busy bees lambing season bleating little ones white as the snow we had fall here not too long ago, a rooster crowing good morning to all!as we head into spring new season of growth we all get to see, new baby gets to experience some outdoor action, new sounds,the sun on the heads new sounds to their ears, new sights for there squinted eyes floppy heads yawns 5 minutes of new experiences calls for another feed and nap time. the mornings and evenings still chilly but the hours in the day are fully enjoyed by all, children running and playing bat down, tug a war, kicking a rugby ball. "mum do you have a water? because my throat is dry, so much fun playing in the springtime sun. tiny buds on the tree such fabulous surprises growing for all to see such beauty nature holds, in house plants starting to bloom a wonderful site they made it through winter to be kissed by the springtime sun light. and the elderly begin take there way to the back door and place themselves in the sun spot to warm the bones and joints they suddenly remember there youth memories flood there minds and stories are told. cheerful laughter can be heard near the crackling sound of the fire for its lambs tail season with black lips and charcoal looking fingers the lambs tail is a highlight this time of year its yummy cooked flesh, "you want salt?” a member ask, "nah! soy sauce and I want Worcester sauce", another reply, "cupp tea, cupptea", the greatest thing about spring is everyone emerges anew afresh from being indoors throughout the colder months. spring to sowing for gardens in summer love the food that is plants and raised by one's own hands and shared with love.

I was raised amongst the waves,

Like any other man.

I’ll get my kicks and get ‘er done,

Like any other man.

But there is one girl who gives me home,

Like only one girl can.

And when I’m home she lets me know,

I am indeed her man.

Time kills.

Flies

spread the disease

Carpe diem.

But

wash your hands

Spring has a zing, a time to sing, when hope is high and on the wing

A time of nests, discarding vests, spraying pests and cricket tests

Blossoms blooming, bitterns booming, sweet produce looming, insects zooming

Flex your green thumb, but don’t be dumb and end up with a sunburnt bum

Get out the hose, have a sunny doze, no more test buds up your nose (?)

The equinox, a nesting box, bare feet or jandals, no more socks

Bulbs all showing, more lawns for mowing, the lawn chairs out from winter stowing

Daylight saving, creative craving, spring cleaning slaving, new flowers waving

Most young men’s fancy, full of elation, turns to thoughts of (re)creation

Just what that may mean is hard to say?, But there’s more of us each passing day

Break out the beers, to welcome cheers, let’s all say goodbye to winter’s fears

A time of hope and new beginnings, a few less losses, a few more winnings

Once your ice cream’s more of a melter, lets hope it’s goodbye to Covid Delta

I dazzle in small measures; one colour at a time,

hoping to catch your gaze long enough to reflect it back

Most days I am brushed off, stepped through or waited out,

left in your footsteps or clinging to windows watching,

but sometimes in idle afternoons you will

see me in the haze, feel me settle on your skin

In the morning cold I freeze around you,

hoping to appear in a puff of your breath,

or to wrap around your numb hands

and sink my teeth in

As the sky thaws I lose my grip,

recoiling at ground too hot to touch

and left with doubts piled to the edge of space,

ardent torrents of breath bringing typhoons

I let my hope spill over despite myself,

floods washing away any foundation

until you sink beneath my best effort

to drip into your quietest moments

In the end I always dissipate,

a passing shower forecast elsewhere,

so I'll hide in the spring

sky until I burn away

I sleep with the ranch slider open, and the electric blanket cranked up.

Not sure if I'm hot or cold; maybe I'm just right.

Awakened by the conversation being held by two pīwakawaka outside my door, I wonder what the day will bring.

Taking flight, my friends leave me alone with my thoughts.

Another spring day in Tūranganui-a-Kiwa. My senses are alight.

Outside I sense movement.

Swaying gently in the breeze, lined up like youthful yellow soldiers, the daffodils are indifferent.

They know they are stunning. They seek no approval from me.

The beach beckons and, as I dress warmly, I imagine the crashing, thundering waves.

I am not disappointed.

Sea spray dances above the waves, trying to escape the treachery below.

Tangaroa is exhibiting his might today.

The cacophony is almost deafening and yet, is pleasing to the ear.

As I return home, I am greeted by the insistent bleating of new lambs in the paddock.

They gleefully kick their back legs into the air, an invitation to play.

For me, a cup of strongly brewed coffee.

As I stare into the depths of my cup, I see not my future, but my past.

Another spring day in Tūranganui-a-Kiwa. My senses are dulling.

Ahhhh, time to turn on the electric blanket and open the ranch slider, just a touch.

Spread out and boneless,

Just a wool rug in the hot afternoon sun.

The drop of a sigh the softest signal

This passing life is still present.

Only the occasional shifting grumble

From a D.N.R. sunbather

Meters the symphony of this Spring day.

The motorised heartbeat of manicured lawns

Gleaming green over the valley.

Discordant percussion as drunken tuis

Rustle and trifle

Across the blossom of a pink cherry tree.

Now brace for the crescendo

As an intermittent chainsaw

Cuts straight through

And into

The peace of the day.

I have been waiting in longing.

Dreaming of a sun almost forgotten.

Reconciling with my darkness.

Allowing death to work her clever magic.

My garden has been thoroughly weeded.

Upturned and freshly seeded.

Ready for the wind to sweep in carrying gifts of joy and sweetness.

The tease of new beginnings fill my emptied heart with promise.

I run to embrace the sun.

Caressing him against my skin

like an old flame I thought I’d never see again.

And so it is.

Another circle of wisdom.

As tui playfully swoop through the trees,

and birdsong can be heard through

the sound of the bees

I wonder...

Would we have noticed?

The sunshine can be felt

warm on my cheek,

Yet a chill breeze races up

from the nearby creek

And I wonder...

Would we have noticed?

Down the road

sprightly lambs are being born,

Frosty grass crunches

underfoot in the dawn

I wonder...

Would we have noticed?

With all of us at home,

nowhere to go,

and life once again turns

from Go to Slow

I wonder...

Would we have noticed?

Would we have noticed

the sound of a song,

from a bird or from the neighbours’ distant strum along?

I wonder...

Would we have noticed or even understood,

the subtleties of change and

the intricacies of good?

I wonder...

A run to the beach

and along the river walkway,

daffodils and freesias

line the path of my day

And I wonder...

Would we have noticed?

The world may seem crazy

during this time in history,

With pandemics and lockdowns,

next year is a mystery.

Thoughts of war,

and of floods and fires,

thoughts of who is truthful

and who are the liars,

Make it more important than ever before,

to notice.

Turn off the devices,

the phones and the noise,

put away for a moment,

the stuff and the toys.

Stand outside.

Breathe.

Appreciate.

And notice.

Last year I remember a resonant meme

"No offence but what a time to be childless"

This year I am with child

Not hapū but

A pēpi on my hope, even

More whines than wines

More nappies than Zoom parties

Much more 4am

Breastfeeding upright by the canned tomato in Countdown

The line was too long and he's cracked

Empty shelves and titi in aisle 5

We'll get out for a hīkoi, that should provide some Diverse Sensory Nourishment

Spread our legs?

That's what got us into this (delightful!) mess

Introduce solids with kamokamo puree

Interestingly identical at both ends

Another pukapuka

A millionth kapu tī

A little treat is not a treat if it's daily

More of a biscuit habit

Waste water testing for the region is negative, as is my nasopharynx

Yesterday I mowed the lawns

With pēpi in the front pack

Today I missed the 1pm with Ashley whilst writing

This stupid poem

I wake to the melodious bird song,

calling in the day,

Announcing that Spring is on the way.

They cling not to their troubled past,

But sing of the blessings

That they can grasp.

Like the spring flowers,

That stand tall above the weeds,

And dance happily in the gentle breeze.

The birth of babies,

Without a care,

New beginnings everywhere.

We can learn from our nature friends,

That worries are a season in time.

I look up, look out,

With a grateful heart,

This beautiful world is mine

1.In the warming sun

delicate pink touches blue.

To feel Spring, I smile.

2.Te rā gently warms…

mawhero opens anew.

Blossom! Buzz and hum.

The wet hem of spring,

dress of fresh bloom and dewdrops,

rises with the sun

Escape the darkness

I'll take a chance in the light

The dirt won't hold me

An awakening

Papatūānuku bursts

Bright cloak of kōwhai.

Frosty chill retires

Blossoms sing new melody

A spring in my step