Tuesday poem: The Mirror of Simple Annihilated Souls by Kate Camp

The mirror of simple annihilated souls
Of the life which we call the annihilated life

The annihilated barely make an imprint in this world
their beds are given away to others
they sleep suspended from the floor
by their own disbelief.

From The Mirror of Simple Annihilated Souls by Kate Camp
Published by Victoria University Press
Used with the permission of 
Victoria University Press

This poem has been posted as part of the Tuesday Poem scheme

Tuesday poem: Currently after Alistiar Te Ariki Campbell by Dinah Hawken

They say we are ants. So many
humans. They say we are sheep
one after another on a hillside.
They say we are birds i.e sweethearts.
And donkeys and snakes and coots.
It’s neat the way we can become
so many others in the menagerie
with different heads, bodies and airs.
It would suit me currently
to be a small owl, silent,
on a miro branch in the dark
and in the morning a lion
on a high dune
facing the sea,

From The Leaf Ride (page 12) by Dinah Hawken
Published by Victoria University Press
Used with the permission of 
Victoria University Press
This poem has been posted as part of the Tuesday Poem scheme

Tuesday poem: for my catholic mother by Bernadette Hall

Truly you are brave
full of faith & graceful

laying your hands on the body
of the house. I’d like to light

a holy roman candle for you
which is better than a poke

in the eye with a burnt stick
& polish up your batik face

a bit. Godblessed & all
the rest of it, lean on me,

lady, with your protestant leg.
We’ll make the cat laugh yet.

From The Merino Princess (page 18) by Bernadette Hall
Published by Victoria University Press
Used with the permission of Victoria University Press
This poem has been posted as part of the Tuesday Poem scheme

Tuesday poem: (untitled) by Lynn Jenner

In 1911 a sea monster which no one could identify washed up near Boston. Houdini arranged for steel eyelets to be punched into the side of the opening in the belly. He had himself chained as usual. As he entered the creature he sprayed perfume on the area where his face would be.

Members of the public were invited to help lace up the belly. When this was completed his assistants placed a cabinet around the monster, and an orchestra struck up a popular song called ‘Sailor Beware’. Everyone laughed. The orchestra played other songs. Some wags called out wisecracks. Then everything went quiet.

After fifteen minutes Houdini appeared, pallid and sweating, holding up the leg irons and manacles for the crowd. The cabinet was removed, showing the creature still laced, chained and padlocked.

Houdini’s first words were to ask his assistants to move the crowd back.

Then he called the leader of the orchestra over and gave him two hard kicks in the shin. “No jokes!’ he said. ‘No jokes!’

From Dear Sweet Harry (page 17) by Lynn Jenner
Published by Auckland University Press
Used with the permission of Auckland University Press

This poem has been posted as part of the Tuesday Poem scheme

Tuesday poem: Secrets by Monique Hodgkinson

I came here three times as a child. The first
was for a birthday party
for which I was dressed in yellow
when all the other girls wore pink.
The second time was an
act of desperation
I had lost my parents and rushed in crying
all hot-faced steamy tears and panic
they let me use the telephone.
During the third time
my mother told me The News
how things had changed
her eyes like bullets, boring
into my head. I didn’t
remember much else really
apart from the gooey caramel in my chocolate slice
and the way the sunlight slipped in
like secrets.

This poem was second in the Whitireia Eat Your Words poetry competition. It has been published, along with other competition poems in Eat Your Words: Wellington Cafe Poems. Email cafepoetrycomp@whitireia.ac.nz for your copy.

Used with the permission of Whitireia Publishing and Ish Done.

This poem has been posted as part of the Tuesday Poem scheme.

Tuesday poem: The Last Piece of Cake by Ish Done

There must be a little door
at the back of a cupboard
in the kitchen
of every cafe in Wellington.

A little blue door
with a polished brass handle
and a letter slot,
and maybe a knocker.

And inside
there must be
an old Eurasian badger
who has immigrated
especially
to eat the last piece
of cake
that no one wants
to eat
because they’re afraid
that its loneliness
will settle in them.

This poem was third in the Whitireia Eat Your Words poetry competition. It has been published, along with other competition poems in Eat Your Words: Wellington Cafe Poems. Email cafepoetrycomp@whitireia.ac.nz for your copy.

Used with the permission of Whitireia Publishing and Ish Done.

This poem has been posted as part of the Tuesday Poem scheme.

Tuesday poem: (untitled) by Lynn Jenner

Suspended by my ankles
in a strait-jacket
from some high building,
I extricate myself
in mid air.

While they put the jacket on,
I square my shoulders
and distend my chest
like a cunning horse.

Once I am hanging
safely about their fear
and they are safely
unable to hear the cost,
I dislocate both shoulders.

With my hands still enclosed
in the sleeves of the jacket,
I reach up my back
and fumble the back
buckles Loose.

Then I am entirely free.

From Dear Sweet Harry (page 3) by Lynn Jenner
Published by Auckland University Press
Used with the permission of Auckland University Press

This poem has been posted as part of the Tuesday Poem scheme