Kiwiwriters Cafe 2006

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Norm Robinson is an ex-civil servant with a deep love of writing. He lives in  Auckland

Tidal River

We came to live
Beside a River
That had no voice

No song to sing
No human animation
On its banks

                   It drifts or hurries by
                   Both ways
                   As tide decrees

                   Sucks and laps
                   At farmland residues
                   Sulks its way to peak

                                   Then slips away
                                   Above the ooze
                                   To mate once more

                                   And trades its slime
                                   For ocean salt

 Back then I feared
 Its yellow 
 Moving shroud
 Its stealth and secret
 Anchored residues

                                                      Until one early morn
                                                      I walked its banks
                                                      And felt change

                                                      Its elemental magic
                                                      Its quiet dreaming time

                                                      Between the tides
                                                      Cold white mist
                                                      Across its face
                                                      Trees stark and still

 And then – a sun break
 In the water
 Where leaves touched

 And that same day
 I saw an autumn sunset
 Lifting brown to gold
 Plumed pampas grass

 Feathers preened 
 In soft breeze

Drifting branch
A silhouette against the sun with gilt-tipped
Arrows in its wake

Copyright 2006. Norman Robinson



Light and Dark

There's tender beauty
On the dark side
Shy of light and yet
Accepting of its bounty
Finely measured
Ceding magic
To the seeker's mind
In payment for
A Lyric song
A poem in exchange


The Tenant

Yet would I walk alone
At sunrise
And under quiet stars
With no thought
Save that of wonder

And to feel the
Power of sound
In silence…

Abstract elusive tenant
Of my secret world
Through which
All love is filtered
To its essence
And music enters
On the breeze
To stir the mind
As memory pages
Turn and pause

Reminders of a time
That was
Of promises kept

And Love
Deep love
Through the years

Copyright 2006. Norman Robinson

There is a prize of a free doggerel poem for anyone who can give me a sensible explanation as to why, in the name of all that's holy, this wretched website places Page Eight after Page One  in the left sidebar - and won't let me change the sequence.  Maybe I'm expecting too much, or getting too picky in my old age, is that it?  

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