Friday, July 30, 2010

NZ Poetry Day - Kaitoke

I run as lithe as any elven maid,
through forest stream and wooded glade,
to listen as the soft wind soughs,
and dance beneath the autumn boughs.

My footsteps as they pass,
barely bend a blade of grass,
no trace remaning in this wood,
picture perfect where I stood.

A..J. Ponder - author page

Sorry this is a bit late guys, but it is still Friday. 

This was written in 2005. I was amazed at the lack of trace the LOTR crews left on Kaitoke, and wrote this poem in their honour as much as for Kaitoke itself, which is was still gorgeous, even if not quite as untainted as in my remembered youth. 

Published Caught on Canvas 2005 (p104) under a gorgeous old world picture of a girl with an umbrella, and opposite a kaitoke forest that must only remain in my youth, so rich and green and dark.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

The Fair Folk/The Fairies by William Allingham

All the talk about hobbits made me remember an old child-hood favourite  by William Allingham


Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And grey cock's feather!

Down along the rocky shore,
Some make their home,
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds
Of the black mountain-lake,
With frogs for their watch-dogs,
All night awake.

High on the hill-top
The old king sits;
He is now so old and grey
He's nigh lost his wits.
With a bridge of white mist
Columbkille he crosses,
On his stately journeys
From Slieve League to Rosses;
Or going up with music
On cold starry nights,
To sup with the Queen
Of the gay Northern Lights.

They stole little Bridget
For seven years long.
When she came down again
Her friends were all gone.
They took her lightly back,
Between the night and morrow;
They thought that she was fast asleep,
But she was dead with sorrow.
They have kept her ever since
Deep within the lakes,
On a bed of flag-leaves,
Watching till she wakes.

By the craggy hill-side,
Through the mosses bare
They have planted thorn trees
For pleasure here and there.
Is any man so daring
To dig up one in spite,
He shall find the thornies set
In his bed at night.

Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And grey cock's feather!



William Alingham, 19 March 1824  (or possibly 1828 general consensus seems to be 1824)- 18 November 1889 . William Alingham was an Irish poet described as clear, fresh and graceful, his work has always been thought of as charming, and although he was never really famous like some of the other poets of the time, his work is still around over a hundred years later, apparently Terry Pratchett's working title for "The Wee Free Men" was "For Fear of Little Men" after the poem, and the opening verse has been used in a number of other works including Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Click here to arrive at the Portal for Fairy Tale Poetry, or back at the Tuesday Poem hub:  

A..J. Ponder - author page

Monday, July 19, 2010

Time Wyrm


         Wyrm                                                                    the Universe
      A         in Time,                                             Brilliance of              all
                       through Space,                     the true                              around
                                 splitting the milky Stars
                                                  and Revealing


#


there's a crack in Amelia's computer screen
and insistent
that I should write a poem
I complied

After all, Amelias'
lose their mothers'
to forgetfulness
far too easily.

So, should sudden sulks and sullen
teenage tantrums
tear darkness through
and through

cast your eyes to the
starless wyrm
of starry space
and remember this

A..J. Ponder - author page

Click here for more poetry, back at the Tuesday Poem hub: http://tuesdaypoem.blogspot.com/


Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Tuesday Poem, excuses

Of course yesterday's post, Head Cold, could be construed as a poem, it's a bit like a computer generated word medley after all.

But I also thought linking up to a slightly longer bit of prose would count somehow as a poem, so here is the link. "The Queen & I," Winner of the Science Fiction & Fantasy Association of New Zealand, short, short story competition 2005 and published in the ICON Handbook March 2005.

Those are my excuses and I'm sticking to them. Happy writing, everyone!!

A..J. Ponder - author page

Monday, July 12, 2010

Head Song


Wordle: an affliction of poetry 12 July


I went to wordle (as suggested by Mary's rather audacious blog) only to discover my affliction of poetry was just a head song.  Should have known.

A..J. Ponder - author page

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

"Silvery Grey Ribbons" An Oil Triptych from Space

(I knew I wanted to write a poem on the spill, but I couldn't get my perspective right until I saw these pictures of the oil spill from space. Nasa link )



silver-grey
smothers
the wild blue
until
it lies
flat
and
glinting
in the
treacherous
sunlight

#

Midas
Your Gold
has infected
the sea
and turned
its waters
bright with
the blood of
generations
past

#

still-
black gold
proves
not rare
enough
nor precious
enough
to save-
like
the invisible lives
washed up on
on a calm
silvery
tide
of death

A..J. Ponder - author page