Where The Creek Used To Run (Ivan Donn Carswell Poem)
In ash-fine silt that spread like sand after the flood and before the wild weeds claimed the old stream bed; ...
In ash-fine silt that spread like sand after the flood and before the wild weeds claimed the old stream bed; ...
Has life ever dumped you in a heap? Perhaps you've found self belief so strongly reinforcing that doubt never enters ...
Awakening in the twenty four hour embrace of a few moments sleep, where half a lifetime eludes dreams; and feeling ...
Will they be there for you when you die? Will they hold your hands and cry until you've breathed your ...
I thought my father was far too fat - eagerly I told him so, if he was offended it didn't ...
We came to find the place contained in legendary tracts, the hidden land of fulsome wealth that we had sorely ...
Whangaehu waters, hot-spilled from the cauldron of Crater Lake, swirling mud-green from the cup between Tahurangi and Pyramid Peak, sulphurous, ...
"Zipless sex" one cynic called this festival of fornication, this celebration of new-found sexual strength and urbane honesty, of sex ...
The mystery of a smile that glows within your eyes and is framed in an innocent countenance passes not unheeded. ...
Even tonight will pass into memory's oblivion, doomed, despite an ardent reunion of once estranged yet precisely matched parts, to ...
I The roaring of Te Whaiau intake weir intrudes as sleep eludes again to soar across the lake on white-tipped, ...
It seldom snowed in Camp they said, on the mountains, yes, and in the Styx, aka zone six. That's where ...
I had no profound feelings of shock or surprise to those matter-of-fact revelations which spelled the end of this chapter ...
Which things excited you the most when you were young, can you recall the pleasures they would bring? Indulge yourself, ...
The cliff sprang from the sea at end of Hostel Beach, if the tide was out you'd reach a tiny ...
You awaken this time with a welcoming smile, an experience sublime, not a dream - the boner from Hell has ...
Ronald Hi Khong Wong is gone, sadly he deceased the commencement of this week. It wasn't unexpected. He never contradicted ...
At break of day we rested, the contest of our wills declined to wrest the peace away and where the ...
Don't talk to me of War or stalk the ground our fabled soldiers died upon, I'm sound of limb and ...
For a small child crossing the pen alone was a courageous feat, occasionally, with a maniacal bleat, the wether would ...
At dawn I dreamed of wispy clouds, I had the time to wield and watched the regimented lines of cirrus ...
Night's grating of steel on stone and splash of water crashing from the buckets brings back that moment in a ...
It was a half-life that seemed like a genuine world wielding hard symbolism over those who ruled it; we lived ...
It rained throughout the night, a truly welcome sound that eases sleep although we barely slept - we were distressed ...
It was called Farm Fantastic, a catchy phrase, and potentially a day's wasted sweat. Even after the event I can't ...
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