JOURNEYING
My journey in 2000 was special. I frequently travelled alone but this time a daughter was with me as I travelled in the UK, and Spain, and her presence inspired me to use the water colours and notebook I had packed before leaving New Zealand. And as I journeyed further without her, I continued to record my experiences in the US, Canada, Greece and France. By looking closely at the places visited, both as I put pen to paper and brush to palette, I took the ambience of the inspiring view to myself and so built up a written and pictorial account of my journey which is as you view it here.
The time I spent in the countries listed in the Index was never simply about recording geographic features; it was also a journey of heart and mind responding to those features about which we, as New Zealanders, are concerned – namely, those that relate to our being nuclear-free. I prefer to let the poems and paintings speak for themselves.
The time I spent in the countries listed in the Index was never simply about recording geographic features; it was also a journey of heart and mind responding to those features about which we, as New Zealanders, are concerned – namely, those that relate to our being nuclear-free. I prefer to let the poems and paintings speak for themselves.
INDEX OF POEMS
Prelude – Song Sparrow
Borrowed Air – The World
Woodmont Ave. – Berkeley, USA
Above Lucerne, Tourists – Switzerland
Atsitsa, Skyros, The Dance – Greece
Riva Del Garda – Italy
Garcin at Midnight – Spain
Red Barn, Ontario – Canada
A Poor Harvest, Ontario – Canada
La Force De Frappe – France
Manchester – World Court Project
Home (New Zealand)
Update: to see the 2015 version go to Pen and Palette Travelogue
Prelude – Song Sparrow
Borrowed Air – The World
Woodmont Ave. – Berkeley, USA
Above Lucerne, Tourists – Switzerland
Atsitsa, Skyros, The Dance – Greece
Riva Del Garda – Italy
Garcin at Midnight – Spain
Red Barn, Ontario – Canada
A Poor Harvest, Ontario – Canada
La Force De Frappe – France
Manchester – World Court Project
Home (New Zealand)
Update: to see the 2015 version go to Pen and Palette Travelogue
Prelude
Song Sparrow
New Jersey
The tiny Song Sparrow
partner of the sunrise
taps on my windowpane
to call me
from vain dreaming
a self-defined task
to alert me
to each new morning
warning
that there is but one
today
New Jersey
The tiny Song Sparrow
partner of the sunrise
taps on my windowpane
to call me
from vain dreaming
a self-defined task
to alert me
to each new morning
warning
that there is but one
today
The World
Borrowed Air
Without a qualm
I borrow the air
take from it, everywhere
and toss it back again
I’ve taken away from an isle of Greece
air of a vibrant hue
crisp as the sound of a cow-bell
and bright as Aegean blue
Snow-capped air from off the Alps
the roof-top of Japan
and of that other mountain range
which gave me breath when I was born
I have breathed the air of Wales
filled with calling sheep
that nudged my tent and frisked about
and stole from me some sleep
I’ve exhaled the air of Warwick Road
gone underground by train
and shared the air of those
whom London calls again
New Brunswick air was maple sweet
with Bloodroot flowers at my feet
One morning sound I long to hear
the sparrow’s song that broke the air
The air I caught on Woodmont Ave
was filled with poetry
tipped off by silvered ’Frisco Bay
and sunset fires which burned the day
Without a qualm
I borrow the air
take from it, everywhere
and toss it back again
I’ve taken away from an isle of Greece
air of a vibrant hue
crisp as the sound of a cow-bell
and bright as Aegean blue
Snow-capped air from off the Alps
the roof-top of Japan
and of that other mountain range
which gave me breath when I was born
I have breathed the air of Wales
filled with calling sheep
that nudged my tent and frisked about
and stole from me some sleep
I’ve exhaled the air of Warwick Road
gone underground by train
and shared the air of those
whom London calls again
New Brunswick air was maple sweet
with Bloodroot flowers at my feet
One morning sound I long to hear
the sparrow’s song that broke the air
The air I caught on Woodmont Ave
was filled with poetry
tipped off by silvered ’Frisco Bay
and sunset fires which burned the day
The air I breathed is everywhere
recycled, given round
shared with all who breathe to live
not only human-kind
recycled, given round
shared with all who breathe to live
not only human-kind
The USA
Woodmont Avenue – Time to Pass in Berkeley
Cotoneasters bough to shade my head
convolvulus and blackberry entwine to cool my feet
I sit on fraying stump to write the view
Water-colour-washed by distance
'Francisco Bay appears not to stir
though unceasing traffic vibrates the air
and endless trains jolt its edges
Darkly dominant in middle-ground
pox-marked macrocarpas
- holding ready cones awaiting a convenient time -
idly stretch long shadows along Woodmont
The foreground - quilted patch-work
pink and grey sliced and stitched by quakes -
feigns sleep
Across my page in gentle agitation
shadow berries tease my pen
I breathe the fragrance of Gardenia
and send my painter’s eye to squeeze
forget-me-not blue and japonica red
to heap an inner palette
Cotoneasters bough to shade my head
convolvulus and blackberry entwine to cool my feet
I sit on fraying stump to write the view
Water-colour-washed by distance
'Francisco Bay appears not to stir
though unceasing traffic vibrates the air
and endless trains jolt its edges
Darkly dominant in middle-ground
pox-marked macrocarpas
- holding ready cones awaiting a convenient time -
idly stretch long shadows along Woodmont
The foreground - quilted patch-work
pink and grey sliced and stitched by quakes -
feigns sleep
Across my page in gentle agitation
shadow berries tease my pen
I breathe the fragrance of Gardenia
and send my painter’s eye to squeeze
forget-me-not blue and japonica red
to heap an inner palette
Switzerland
Above Lucerne – Tourists
Snow falls on Rigi building chocolate box pictures
for our cameras flake by flake
piling higher and higher
toward shuttered windows
weighing down branches of the trees
burying fences, and
beating on the windows
of the train knowing
that is what we
who are children of perpetual sun
have come for/ paid for
Snow falls on Rigi building chocolate box pictures
for our cameras flake by flake
piling higher and higher
toward shuttered windows
weighing down branches of the trees
burying fences, and
beating on the windows
of the train knowing
that is what we
who are children of perpetual sun
have come for/ paid for
Greece
Atsitsa, Skyros - The Dance
We dance to an African drum
hips swinging heads back
Oh the moon the moon
the rhythm of your pulse
the rhythm of your dance
does it change for me
for me?
We’re stomping and laughing
parting returning
does it quicken for me
as mine for you?
We touch eyes smiling
quickened by love
for you
for me?
We’re turning and flinging
Wild and laughing
can the moon in our bones
be the mood of the dance
the dance?
the Ireland in our blood
the rhythm
in our nights
of love?
Of love?
The drum is stilled
We hug hearts pounding
The moon dances over the sea, the sea …
We dance to an African drum
hips swinging heads back
Oh the moon the moon
the rhythm of your pulse
the rhythm of your dance
does it change for me
for me?
We’re stomping and laughing
parting returning
does it quicken for me
as mine for you?
We touch eyes smiling
quickened by love
for you
for me?
We’re turning and flinging
Wild and laughing
can the moon in our bones
be the mood of the dance
the dance?
the Ireland in our blood
the rhythm
in our nights
of love?
Of love?
The drum is stilled
We hug hearts pounding
The moon dances over the sea, the sea …
The moon is red
Italy
Riva Del Garda - from the patio
I devoured the night Lights
sketched buildings
jetties
walkways
dropped windows
arches
doorways
into the shimmering lake
The silence allowed
small night cries
lapping water
I devoured the night Lights
sketched buildings
jetties
walkways
dropped windows
arches
doorways
into the shimmering lake
The silence allowed
small night cries
lapping water
My pen quivered
at the talk-speak of
beauty
suggestive
delicate talk
translated by my muse
at the talk-speak of
beauty
suggestive
delicate talk
translated by my muse
The UK
Ambleside
Ambleside, a gentle place
one did not run or leap for joy
lest noise was mistaken
for unrest or panic
I chose instead to
wander the place
take the pulse of the quiet river
and laugh
with the Englishman born
sketch and paint
Ambleside, a gentle place
one did not run or leap for joy
lest noise was mistaken
for unrest or panic
I chose instead to
wander the place
take the pulse of the quiet river
and laugh
with the Englishman born
sketch and paint
In pursuit of gentleness
and while away the time…
and while away the time…
Spain
Garcin at Midnight
I heard her come
from my blue and white sleep
key in the heavy front door
one step from the street
She slipped in
and out through the
courtyard
to unleash the nectar
of the thirsting plants
Radiance-tipped
from the moon’s flask
she stroked the halos of petals
and smiled
A dog barked from the valley of history
across the Roman wall
I followed her footsteps
and smoothed the ochre dust
as she turned the key
to the silent street
and my orange sleep
I heard her come
from my blue and white sleep
key in the heavy front door
one step from the street
She slipped in
and out through the
courtyard
to unleash the nectar
of the thirsting plants
Radiance-tipped
from the moon’s flask
she stroked the halos of petals
and smiled
A dog barked from the valley of history
across the Roman wall
I followed her footsteps
and smoothed the ochre dust
as she turned the key
to the silent street
and my orange sleep
Canada
Red Barn Ontario
Its roof its signature
a history and work ethic
seasons and snow
Its roof its signature
a history and work ethic
seasons and snow
cattle indoors
best bonnet and clogs on the Sabbath. Happiness
best bonnet and clogs on the Sabbath. Happiness
A Poor Harvest
The signature of global change
where once grew trees for shade
dust now clogs monstrous machines
and parched throats. Regret
The signature of global change
where once grew trees for shade
dust now clogs monstrous machines
and parched throats. Regret
France
La Force de Frappe
~ written at the time of the testing of nuclear bombs by France at Mururoa Atoll; The Eiffel Tower personifies President Chirac ~
From the axial tower
a voice
lifted high over ornamental arches
pronounces in metallic timbres
leave us alone alone alone
leave us alone
From the depths of the ocean
the echoes return
alone alone alone
Iron and steel creak through the night
ever louder ever higher
Stressing need of might they cry
la force de frappe
la force de frappe we need!
We plead to be left alone alone
We plead to be left alone
From beneath the fraught reef
the mollusk calls back
we plead to be left alone
we need to be left alone
The crafted steel web in morning beauty
reflects a coral sun
and from the peak of the tower
transmitted tones
signal the quaking world
that it is done done done
that it is done
and where warm currents meet
the boom of the bomb
and the surge of the whale
join in the thunderous roar as one
as one
join in a thunderous roar as one
join in the thunderous roar as one
~ written at the time of the testing of nuclear bombs by France at Mururoa Atoll; The Eiffel Tower personifies President Chirac ~
From the axial tower
a voice
lifted high over ornamental arches
pronounces in metallic timbres
leave us alone alone alone
leave us alone
From the depths of the ocean
the echoes return
alone alone alone
Iron and steel creak through the night
ever louder ever higher
Stressing need of might they cry
la force de frappe
la force de frappe we need!
We plead to be left alone alone
We plead to be left alone
From beneath the fraught reef
the mollusk calls back
we plead to be left alone
we need to be left alone
The crafted steel web in morning beauty
reflects a coral sun
and from the peak of the tower
transmitted tones
signal the quaking world
that it is done done done
that it is done
and where warm currents meet
the boom of the bomb
and the surge of the whale
join in the thunderous roar as one
as one
join in a thunderous roar as one
join in the thunderous roar as one
Birds fly high above the seething foam
to dip and squawk:
You have torn the calm of the ocean asunder
You have tainted the fish of the sea
You have failed to hear the voices of children
crying silence silence silence
to dip and squawk:
You have torn the calm of the ocean asunder
You have tainted the fish of the sea
You have failed to hear the voices of children
crying silence silence silence
You have scorned the repeated plea
of East and West
for peace peace peace
of East and West
for peace peace peace
United Kingdom
Manchester - World Court Project
July 8 Manchester
city to first declare nuclear free
blasted by P.I.R.A
I walk, eager for reports from the Hague
unsure what the Judges will say
hoping for wonderful news
Chemical, Biological warfare - already illegal
what of nuclear arsenal?
My God! What do I hear?
“In extreme circumstances
where the survival of a country
is under threat
maybe then it could be justified.”
Were they blind to reasons given
to test
possess
deploy?
(I know some are not so!)
Cannot they see that the bomb gives no security?
Retaliation is day mushroomed into night?
Infinite night
July 8 Manchester
city to first declare nuclear free
blasted by P.I.R.A
I walk, eager for reports from the Hague
unsure what the Judges will say
hoping for wonderful news
Chemical, Biological warfare - already illegal
what of nuclear arsenal?
My God! What do I hear?
“In extreme circumstances
where the survival of a country
is under threat
maybe then it could be justified.”
Were they blind to reasons given
to test
possess
deploy?
(I know some are not so!)
Cannot they see that the bomb gives no security?
Retaliation is day mushroomed into night?
Infinite night
Home
Mine
eyes closed with desire for dreams
their closing my swing into the turnstile
of the fairground where puppets play into the night
under spots of light with voices not their own
a stream of otherness floods the arena
all my flotsam and jetsam has freedom
to play out fantasies of travel, love, the dance
I applaud
carry the warm glow through my day
I have in my grasp something as illusive
as the Milky Way
as sure as the landing pad at Cape Canaveral
as certain as pigeons fly in Trafalgar Square
eyes closed with desire for dreams
their closing my swing into the turnstile
of the fairground where puppets play into the night
under spots of light with voices not their own
a stream of otherness floods the arena
all my flotsam and jetsam has freedom
to play out fantasies of travel, love, the dance
I applaud
carry the warm glow through my day
I have in my grasp something as illusive
as the Milky Way
as sure as the landing pad at Cape Canaveral
as certain as pigeons fly in Trafalgar Square