Monday, 8 December 2014

Waterfalling words

New Zealand: words and stories


Tuis build their songs,
Out of everyone else's leftovers.
A squeak, a creak, a whistle,
And a bubbling waterfall trill
That froths like wave foam
And wakes the morning into delight

Tui (Presothemadera novaeseelandiae are beautiful birds 
whose gentlemen where smart tufted bow ties 
of white feathers on their black bibs)

The Falls 

(started at the Erskine Falls in the Great Otway NP, Victoria 
but then finished at falls on the Kaimai Mountains in NZ)

Endless voices,
Shouting or whispering,
Depending on the rain

Voices pouring
Themselves over stone.
Wearing away,
Washing away.

Moss grows,
Ferns drip fronds,
And straps and necklaces,
Leather and pearl and precious metals,
All in green,
And glistening,
In the sprayed whisper
Of the falls.

Trees die
And drop
Stone-smooth trunks
To block
The stream
And build deep,
Dark pools among the
Dinosaur boulders,
Where the voices

Who lives in the cold shadow
Of the pool?
Whose are the voices
That sing,
That whisper,
That shout,
That wash away
Polish the hard rocks of my grief
And anger and pain
Into the rounded boulders
Of hope


My words on paper
Write you into black and white
I can't even catch the cloud-grey shades
Of our conversations.
The prospects of the bright colours of our passion
Are lost in the arts of pen and processor



Once I had a thought
Of hills and woods and
A cottage by the sea.
Once I had a dream
Of ambitions climbed
And mountains scaled
And hopes flowering

Once I held a promise
Of joy
In my hands,
On my heart.

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