Darryn John Murphy

New Zealand

As we unite as one nation beneath the southern skies
We will look to the horizon and hold our heads with pride
For the essence of our country
Is present in our cities, towns, and homes
And we will carry it with pride wherever we may roam

For we are a land of many people
But united we are one. We will triumph over adversity
For we are proud of heritage. For we know where we have been
As a nation have endured the greatest hardships
And yet the essence of our nation
Has always been present in our lives

For there is beauty in abundance
From our snow covered mountain ranges
To the wide open plains and our shores
The spirit of our country
Will be present in every brook and every stream

For the spirit that is our country
Will always be present in the hearts
Of every one of us who. Call New Zealand home
And as we look to the future where our hopes and dreams reside
The pride of this great nation will always be present by our sides
Darryn John Murphy

Angela Smith

Lunar Pariah

Waves rushing and rolling,
Crashing and thundering,
Giants of the oceans,
Leaving us wondering

Where do they come from?
Where do they go?
Were they always this magical?
What happens below

The ocean’s surface,
Their mystical haven,
Home of the waves,
Of the sea raven.

Strange creatures dwell
In the blue abyss,
Unexplored, unexploited,
Marked with the ocean’s dark kiss.

Far above them,
The ocean’s furies ferment,
Lashes of lunar water,
Victims of aquatic slaughter lament.

These waves so enticing,
Rushing and gushing,
So magically charming,
Yet cold and forever crushing.

                                       HOARFROST

                                       White chalk wiping slate clean
                               Blackboard erased stardust glitter windswept
                       Flu season powder puff sniffles
               Runny pug noses snotty hanky-panky

                               Clouds clinging to each other
                       Uptight hugs squeeze box folds
               Polka dot accordion pleat bellows
       Paper aircraft landing strip plowed

                       Crystals sticking to outspread wings
               Seedpod flakes seeking absolute perfection
       Invisible circles undercover angel traces
Sparkly haloes disconnected nimbus radiance

One-way river of no return
       Lids pried open eyeballs drowned
               Hooked on transparent fish line
                       Shame dangling vertically resolved horizontally

       Grown cold transmigratory souls adrift
               Icicle splinters dripping lonely angst
                       Bladed feet walking on water
                               Making endless figure 8 grooves

               Wind-chill numbness exposing naked truths
                       Snowfall uplifting jacketed childhood spirit
                               Soaped sled rudders whizzing downhill
                                       Frosted cakewalk slippery eel pratfalls

                       Wild beast separated from herd
                               Trampled grassroots leaving no hoofprints
                                       Entrapped Minotaur inescapable snowbound maze
                                               Rebutting wayward hedged in tameness

                               Dr. Charles Frederickson

Rev Andy

Homeless

No place to call my own, no where to have a home
I live in the streets, dirt and filth beneath my feet
Occasionally into the shelters I can stay
Where if I kiss their Asses they let me stay
                     I AM HOMELESS

There is no trust in the dark and dreary streets
For over my shoulder I am always looking
Ever afraid of what danger might be lurking
Just living is not an option for me, only survival is the key
                     I AM HOMELESS

Into the streets come the fakes and the phonies
Social, religious and do goodiers too, all shower me with false love
Forcing me to give in to all their causes
Never hearing or understanding my anguished pleas
                     I AM HOMELESS

Those who are in the know, say I don't want to have a home
They say I like to roam and be free
That is not true, I do want a home and to be clean
To make a difference in a world so mean
                     I DO NOT WANT TO BE HOMELESS

But society is cruel, non-caring and elite
The world they have created, just can not be
Unless they make sure, they have people like me
In order to keep the world the way that it is, I cannot be freed
                     I MUST BE HOMELESS


Without Love, human society is in a very difficult state;
without Love, in the future we will face tremendous problems.
Love is the center of human life.


Rev Andy 4/5/05

Nicholas Alexander

The Lost Charm

We talk of lots and yet nothing comes to us
We walk a ways and come back and prays
it's gone to us
we talk in ways that make us stray but
its too long before her song lets him in
taste mocks the air that burdens a breath
make it sound heavy like crying when you sigh
and the loss of independence is soft
and unless you go to the post and empty envelopes
you are lost in falling stocks
your belief system
under shock, stops

Charles Frederickson

                               RED BAMBOO

Dense hard-walled thickets skyward bent
       Steadfast upright soldiers at attention
               Resolutely erect vertebrate spinal taproot
                       Hollow tubular echo bleeding green

       Plotting coordinates parallel lines merge
               Kindred soul mates clumped together
                       Reedy woodwinds shrill high-pitched flutes
                               Breezy swayback resounding moonlight serenade

               Exposed naked truths laid bare
                       Stalking lonely ghosts play hide-and-seek
                               Edible segmented worms timid creatures
                                       Peekaboo offshoots night crawler striptease

                                               Cylindrical ringed joints culm flexed
                                       Clenched fist brass knuckling underground
                               Entire grove singular tunnel plant
                       Antsy burrowers dig express subway

                                       Towering fronds holding up firmament
                               Interwoven fringe casting shadowy webs
                       Atlantean columns shrug shoulder blades
               Droopy nature terminal blossoms wilt

                               Elusive talc flowers flaccid cheeks
                       Six anthers fraying threadbare nap
               Seedy pollination sowing butterfly dismay
       Ephemeral fleetly existence spiritual regeneration

Dr. Charles Frederickson

Kiwi Writer in China

New Zealand-born writer Tzeming Mok says she is part of the "post-Amy Tan generation." For Tan, China was the faraway homeland, a memory. But for writers like Mok, "China is the reality, which no one can avoid."

Out of town guest: Tony Lewis-Jones

Drivetime


A day of not quite making connections.
An accident on the dual carriageway
And much attention given to the details.

On the radio at rush-hour
My automatic words spill out
Which simply mean ‘I need you. Call.’

Tony Lewis-Jones
January 2007

Bernard Kyle

WHAT'S POETRY
By
Bernard V. Kyle.
[C] 2007


One should review and never eschew,
The genre of poems that please,
Blank verse you may curse, or even worse,
Vers libre, gets you down on your knees.

But 'joy to the soul', is the ultimate goal,
With no need for any dilemma,
But through high and low, one really should know
Si metrum non habet -- non est poema

Jason J Page

Dusk Shadow

And the penny dropped
is there really something
for dinner tonight
No said the man
He had already been
served tapestry from
the table cloth
Pungent purple shimmered
into sight

The man stared into
the moon unable to
share his sight
hunger his weapon
a belly full tonight

Jan Oskar Hansen

Bikini.


Nice to know Britain’s upgrading
Trident, to be nuclear armed will
protect us against those who hasn’t
built the bomb yet, that’s ok then?


The world is a different from yore
the Chinese drive Ferraris, I have
scooter made outside Beijing (turn
left, on the main road to India.)


Used to take girls granted before;
critical, couldn’t make up my mind,
now, are oblivious of my charms,
they are beautiful and I’m alone.


As time knocks on my window,
dreams are meek, nothing about
climbing mountains, but still hope
to inherit brother’s Armani suit

The Cherry Lake (alternative 2, amended)

Still, silent water
Crystal Depth
awash with leaves
(of cherry trees)
lying on a sheet of glass

The Cherry Lake calls
and out of sight as quick as that

the strands of music fall
and spring arrives without delay

The silent morning breaks
into birdsong and ripples

The light comes to invade the senses
with a vibrant colour spray
that tickles

the eyes of morning

The Queens Violin

Erin was the one from the bus
Not that guy called Gus
Mum scolded me in disgust
The way I treated her once
When she was gone it all turned to dust
For thats when people started treating me rough
But now I am ready in this stance
A fallen "Angel" with a Glance
Broken wings a dire dance
For her I will die a thousand times
Before the day turns to dusk

"Happy Birthday Babe for later this month dont think I can make it on the day"

Jan Oskar Hansen

The Sage.

Train explosion in India, many dead and
wounded, black smoke, chaos and people
milling about; it was there on the news,
yet India, far from here, it looked unreal.
in the crowd I saw my brother, had been
dreaming of him all night, he didn’t look
like me, small white teeth glued to red
gums, in no special order; delicate hands.

A learned man who lives on the flesh of
calves, and drink goat milk for breakfast.
He looked straight at the camera willing
me to recognize his existence, I looked
down, put two teaspoon full of sugar in
my coffee and when I looked up he had
disappeared into the noisy crowd, and it
was time for the weekend’s football results.