Poems

Mornings

I love mornings, everything is fresh and brand new
The cool air is latent and filled with possibility
Sunlight pierces the shivering particles
It’s the same old sun that’s been going around for ever
But a brand new sunrise for today
Not like reheated leftovers – although they have a magic all their own
But like an old pair of jeans that have shrunk in the wash and have to be broken in all over again

Fire

I made a fire
In the house
In the fireplace
The place of fire

I built a fire
Out of building wood
Wasn’t sure if I built the fire
Before or after I lit the match

I made a fire
In the fireplace
Out of wood
My house is made of wood so I call it my tree hut
And I call my tree hut my large bird box
It's where I keep my moa.

Printing

I have seen the printing press come and go
All the while I’ve been writing in pen
The pen and the printing press both use ink
I am a printer
At school I was taught printing
Then running writing
Reading, ‘riting, ‘rithmetic
Alliterate Always
- Two different sounding A's
Followed by a different number of l’s
All as in ‘always’, not as in ‘alliterate’
I never stopped learning English.