A poem about hypochondria in lockdown. It’s a thing, isn’t it? And a good thing too. One half thinks her throat is hot and breeding mould.Continue reading
It’s World Poetry Day, and I’m going to read you an old poem that I find very soothing.
It’s about a different kind of self-isolation. Not for COVID-19 but for a bruised heart.Continue reading
In New Zealand as elsewhere, far too many are homeless and forced to be sleeping rough on the streets or in parks. I am immensely privileged to have had at least 25 homes. Even my most primitive shelter had a bed, an electric kettle, and running water.Continue reading
Perhaps when I die
my me, my who
my one, my I
distils in minds
of those who stay behind.
Poem about a man who turned his 50th birthday into a competitive-tragi-comic-melodrama. I know this birthday can be tough, but hey!Continue reading