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Poem – Peter Olds

‘The Clear’: Prospect Park to Charles Brasch Here, I can own you. Here, on this seat they’ve placed in your honour, there’s nobody to move me on. There’s nobody to tell me my poems are good or bad. There’s only…
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Poem – Allen Curnow

A Raised Voice Let it be Sunday and the alp-high summer gale gusting to fifty miles. Windmills groan in disbelief, the giant in the pulpit enjoys his own credible scale, stands twelve feet ‘clothed in fine linen’ visibly white from…
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Poem – Harold Jones

In Autumn or in Spring Nothing remains, and yet everything Does – and this is the truth Of all the constant vanishing And continuance. Both are And are not. The finished leaves That moulder under the rain Are fresh on…
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Poem — Harry Ricketts

Anzac Day, 
Fields of Remembrance, Wellington, 2017   Harry Ricketts (more…)
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Poem — Mark Pirie

Goodnight It can end like this, you know, your arms round her waist filling the void you’d thought was destined for someone else … but perhaps a coffee will do, you think, or another kiss, another hug, or just a…
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Poem — John Davidson

Parsifal We all shoot the swan in youthful trespass ignorant of our misdeed. Not all of us, though, get off so lightly and get a second chance to be embraced as saviour fool. And the second chance, if it comes…
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Poem — C K Stead

The year was 69 (for Sam Sampson) Reading your poem and re-reading my reading I remembered the bar Colin painted for Maurice in the studio among trees below the house above the inlet at Arapito Road with a text that…
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Poem — Fleur Adcock

The Old Government Buildings There it sprawls, embodying magnitude – but also symmetry – not sure whether to label itself “buildings” or “building”. Dignity would demand the plural, but “Largest wooden building in the southern Hemisphere” denotes it as singular.…
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Poem — Mike Doyle

Written on the Soul H.M.D. 1928-1958 A July winter among the drab Scots stone, rain squalls, southerly buster; icy nodes scour my face. But you feel nothing. I look down at your stillness, your last smile, but your eyes are…
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Poem — Chris Orsman

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