Kiwiwriters Cafe 2006

Page Four

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cruisin’ bruisin’

cruising through another day
smooth and seamless
bed made
dishes done
washing out
dinner prepared
Celine Dion in French
plaintive and foreign
yet oddly
clearly
nearly
in tune with my mood

or is my mood
in tune with her?

I’m on the edge again
can’t sit still
jiggling
wriggling
breath short
a catch somewhere
in the back of my throat
that I can’t swallow
that I try to ignore
that I drink to suppress
to ignore
to forget
whatever it is that
takes me there
but I’m fine

really

she’s due home shortly
rightly expecting dinner
and I’ll be there
ready
cold drink
table set
bath run
incense
no sense

nonsense

I’m singing like a wire
overtight
underbright
turn out the light.........

Copyright 2005 John Irvine

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Number 169

At number 169 Adelaide Road
Nana reigned supreme.
With an iron hand in her lace glove
she orchestrated our lives
during the early 40s.

The young women,
one with small child,
did her bidding
without question,
learning life skills
hard taught
hard won
in hard times.

Men were scarce,
away fighting a foreign war
in an alien land
for a King and Country
existing only on the wireless for most,
but brought bluntly home
for others by a telegram from the King.
Those men surviving the telegram
returned home damaged
far beyond any physical injury.

Nana held the fort in their absence,
steel-willed
and uncompromising
in an all-female household
which learned its submissive lessons well.
Except for that one small
boychild…

except for me…

Copyright 2005 John Irvine

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Michael Morgan, poet-tradesman, lives in Palmerston North. He studies guitar and music theory in his spare time. He likes poetry which isn't too serious.

The Trip

I think I want to be a geek

Dress all tidy nice and neat

Leave my smarts back on the street

And get my style from books I read

No more clubbing, fast cars or whores

I’ll hang a sign above my door

To reject the life I lived before

No loose women fast cars or drugs

I’ll have a book a fire and a rug

What a change who would have thought

The things we can learn from a book

Oh wow I just had fright

Look at me I can read and write

So yes I think I want to be a geek

I get the feeling it could be neat

No pens in pocket though

I couldn’t go there

I need a bit of style I must declare

So how should I approach my geekiology

Is there maybe a book I could read

Is there a fad a label and stuff?

Mmmm, wonder if they have a favorite drug

I’ll need a new car the V8 wont do

I’ll get an old mini or a lada , brand new

I’ll pimp it out with library passes

And on the dash I’ll glue some glasses

Oh this is so cool I just can’t wait

I’ll ring my mate to celebrate

Down the pub for a round or two

As I tell him want I want to do

He looks at me with a stunned gaze

As he rolls up some purple haze

Smoke this he said, it’ll be alright

Let’s blame it on that trip last night.

Copyright (c) 2006 Michael Morgan

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Isha Wagner Copyright 2006

WAITING FOR THE TRAIN (in Henderson)

He's walking towards me (a cold wind sweeps the station)

As if he knows me.

He looks eighteen with an impudent grin

Smiling as I sit trying to keep warm

Awaiting to go from nowhere to nowhere

Wants to talk 'I'm fourteen' he says proudly

Rolling a cigarette.

'You seem older', I say

Looking at his long, blond, straggling, unwashed hair

Lanky frame

His stare fixed on me.

Perhaps he wants to know what I know but do I want to know what he knows

'My mum is dying

My dad is ill and out of work'

His voice is loud, sharp

Somehow I don't believe him

'May the universe look after you' I say in my missionary tone

'Hey, what's the universe?'

Sitting still, I shiver

Making no response.

Train arrives.

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