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Susannah MacDonald posted a blog postThe petrels have scented wings
fragrant from the salt air...
A waft of a breeze from the low-tide mark
brought the scent off
a shingle bank
of the petrel
to my balcony
on which I stand...
A petrel…
ContinuePosted on May 21, 2012 at 12:00
The blackbirds seem
to be watchful for the End of Days
of a distant destination yet to come
floating in the Sea of the Infinite
islands of consciousness
visible through the tangle of branches
of confused minds
like veins and synapses
bearing…
ContinuePosted on May 10, 2012 at 20:30 — 7 Comments
In 1912 there was no Small Park…
Instead, orderly rows of workers' cottages
No thriving native plants in gardens
reminders and remainders
of untamed forest encroaching stealthily
on farms clinging to the city's edge...
In this urban oasis of calm
in 2012
a…
ContinuePosted on February 1, 2012 at 15:25 — 2 Comments
The grass is just beginning to grow...
still a little brown as yet
where was once a house is now
abuzz with clover, feeding bees...
A house once stood where
horses grazed beside
fields of cabbages ... perhaps... or maybe
lettuces....
then before, in former times manuka scrub
pink and white
clothed seaside hills
tossed by sea winds....
There was a house...
then one…
ContinuePosted on December 21, 2011 at 14:40 — 4 Comments
Peter Le Baige said… Hi Susannah,
Thank you for your request. I only just became aware of it today while fiddling around this site. I'm sure that my previous requests were received directly through my e mails, but not your one. In short: please excuse the delay.
Mark
Victoria Curtin said…
Tania Cottam said…
K Davis said… © 2012 Created by Nicholas.