Brash young mountains,
Flaunt their snowy caps.
Calm, time and weather worn hills,
Shepherd the crystal rivers
Towards an ancient sea.
Fertile land supports,
Ponga, Kauri and Black Beech.
Kakapo, Takahe and Kiwi,
Patrol temperate rainforests.
Above mighty coastal cliffs,
Albatross soar, while below,
Yellow Eyed Penguin
defy the surf; and nest.
This land administers.
She sustains the spirit
Of all who witness these gifts,
Under a sky streaked,
With a long white cloud.
Deep inside the tunnel
A single bulb glows –
Illuminating the word ‘twist’, in orange letters
And the number eight point five.
Simultaneously
A bell chimes in the city –
Three and a half hours,
Until midnight
The Jazz bar fills
With smoke and keystrokes –
As eight bar blues dares to make an entrance
And zippo’s burn tobacco.
Tonight I stumble
Between conversations and warm scotch –
Tea coloured in seven ounce glasses
My tie sits, askew
Will I find my way –
Or will just one dead albatross hang from my ruddy neck,
Until a cool breeze drives me homewards,
To bed and forgiveness.
 | Mabel Kwong on Loss |
 | Nelkumi on Loss |
| Mabel Kwong on Prostate |
 | Mithai Mumblezz on Vale |
| Mithai Mumblezz on And then I was Grey |
Poetry is my aeroplane 