Silent Solitary Ominous Kiwi Flight
New Zealand remains
inherent a cannibal culture eats
irreverent literary genius
honoured are our sports
heroes believed All Blacks
legendary spirit decades
depicting nationalistic passions
viewed hallowed internationals
sanctified are epic test matches
against Springboks Wallabies
great epic rival Rugby Nations
holy grail reverent conversions
chasing elusive pig skin tries
team skills scrum honed religious
national international matches
makes kiwi blood boil victorious
game not country's hallowed pages
fail forgotten forlorn literary arts
regarded with great respect kiwi arts
reverence bestowed on foreign shores
Katherine Mansfield pen name cloaks
write prominent modernist short fictions
flavour focus vivacious charismatic lives
Virginia Woolf D.H. Lawrence befriends
restlessly seeking plumaged kiwi birds
go far flying flying foreign banner skies
chalice blood gathered wit weeping cries
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Dedicated to Katherine Mansfield, with wreaths woven with a final stanza image, transcribed from her poem ‘Across The Red Sky'.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Related quotes
Team Spirit Conquers Roof Of The World
honoured are our sports heroes
especially our believed All Blacks
decades legendary team spirit
we view them in internationals
epic test matches against Springboks
Wallabies great Rugby nations
chasing elusive pig skin with skills
in national international matches
which makes kiwi blood boil pride
we watched an Auckland bee keeper
explorer mountaineer philanthropist
forge a route through the treacherous
Khumbu Icefall later breach 12 metre
virgin rock face the 'Hillary Step' in
Himalayas near apex Mount Everest
summit as Edmund Hillary wedged
his way up a crack in face between
rock wall the ice to climb on up past
till finally 'A few more whacks
of the ice axe in the firm snow,
and we stood on top.' Conquerors
Edmund Hillary, Tenzing Norgay
in 1953 had summited Everest
a team effort Tenzing a few years
later revealed Hillary had put his foot
on the summit first but in true blue pride
kiwi spirit shared fame on roof of world
sharing fame on roof of the world
is kiwi team spirit iconic expected
sharing fame true measure success
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Walking With Katherine
"come walk we two
across flame red sky
two birds soar flying
silent solitary shadows
would clip our wings
in home ominous flight
blood red flame sunsets
bathe glorious horizons
bruised epic bleed rivers"
"All day
the triumphant
sun with yellow banners
Warred and warred
with the earth,
and when she yielded
Stabbed her heart,
gathered her blood
in a chalice,
Spilling it over
the evening sky.
When the dark
plumaged birds
go flying, flying,
Quiet lies the earth
wrapt in her
mournful shadow,
Her sightless eyes
turned to the red sky
And the restlessly
seeking birds."
exceptionally exquisite
a vibrant emotive poem
sadly not appreciated
KM by random critics
lacking sunset visions
reverent appreciation
come walk we soar
across flame red sky
free birds soar flying
First three stanzas quotation, the poem ‘Home Ominous Flight' by Terence George Craddock.
Stanzas four to ten, quoted lines in changed format, from the exquisite poem ‘Across The Red Sky' by Katherine Mansfield.
Dedicated to Katherine Mansfield.
Copyright © Katherine Mansfield, Terence George Craddock
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Across The Red Sky
Across the red sky two birds flying,
Flying with drooping wings.
Silent and solitary their ominous flight.
All day the triumphant sun with yellow banners
Warred and warred with the earth, and when she yielded
Stabbed her heart, gathered her blood in a chalice,
Spilling it over the evening sky.
When the dark plumaged birds go flying, flying,
Quiet lies the earth wrapt in her mournful shadow,
Her sightless eyes turned to the red sky
And the restlessly seeking birds.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Young Years Of Kiwi Dragons
Weet-Bix and Marmite grows
into Kiwi friends Kiwi beers
great legendary Kiwi Years
“Our wings were flying in the sun....
Dreaming of a wind that would make us sail....
We had the moon and sun behind us....”
there were no horizons that could bind us
no stars galaxies big enough to swallow us
no supernovae in cosmos could out shine us
we burned super stars movers shaking our universe
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Rose Between Thorns
some might see a rose between thorns
Tim and Dave age is but success downed time
I see three exceptionally gifted artists...
that give their own unique art with love to kiwi pride
through decades now with song you turned sung tide
sweet musical gift most precious it is there I do abide...
thou I alone journeyed far from memory homeward halls
kiwi artistry ever sings within my heart is ever at my side
Godspeed write names Tim Dave Bic on hallowed halls...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Remembering Favourite Foods
last night we late cooked
an old time kiwi favourite
yes hot baked beans on
toast with a side of marmite
on toast to keep it company
sweet simple kiwi luxuary
can’t buy my favourite band
Watties Baked Beans legendary
settled for a can of Heinz yes
you guessed it baked beans
in hot tomato sauce with melted
cheese in hot baked beans mixed
I had Sanitarium kiwi Marmite
on toast another kiwi favourite
as my side dish winter dynamite
real kiwi boys palate to excite
it is simple home foods we miss
Sanitarium Weet-Bix favourite
New Zealand's No.1 breakfast
cereal loved by kiwi generations
milk over golden wheat biscuits
with a sprinkling of brown sugar
acquired taste Marmite spectacular
my beloved ETA salt and vinegar
potato chips can’t find here miss
Cadbury Crunchie Bar local star
milk chocolate over a honey comb
center a delicious treat by Cadbury
Brunswick Sardines in soybean
oil or spring water and Canadian
sockeye salmon other favourites
sacrifice living here I really miss
but for a real kiwi smile happy
Watties Baked Beans legendary
spaghetti or beloved baked beans
are my choice “it must be Watties”
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Words Of Condolence
kiwi people nation
needs to grieve
sometimes it helps
words of condolence
are spoken by public
officials civic pulses
responsibilities
kiwi people nation
needs to grieve
sometimes it helps
it is what poets do
but poets have little
currency value in NZ
we are a sports nation
glued to news feed
images tell tragedy tales
tabloids state facts
ministers give eulogies
friends give support
charities volunteers aid
kiwi backbone
stands to in crisis
crisis skill hones
learning curves
community fellowship
rules God’s own
heart of gold
breed in old
fashioned values
Canterbury garden city
was not paradise born
it was compassion bred
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Barnyard Chorus
Poets in performance
various readings
bring your own... poems
waged four dollars
students unwaged
three dollars... participatory theatre
avant-garde
Aucklandisms
intellectuals artists
in feeding frenzy
Bohemianism
Ponsonby style
like-minded people
care to manicure
nail literary pursuits
urban artistic acceptable
Bullerite from sticks
wanderer adventurer vagabond
would not beg a bone
rejecting provincial
aucklandisms
contemporary herd mentality
no time
for provincial
kiwi poetry...
what’s happening
in Ponsonby
on exclusive marae
Maori models
therapeutic environment
inverted fables
popularism
promoted
guruism
pardon me
while I leave
farmyard mentality
an interactive world
problems social
race interconnected
awaits literary
inspection
upon foreign
shores
multi culture
get realism
Bohemianism
Ponsonby style
like-minded people
such poets artists
are provincial chickens
scratching out bare
spot upon dusty
barnyard floor
all hail hen house
clucking out time
of day
for a few
thrown
hand fills of swiftly
swooped upon
gobbled up grain...
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in June 1999 on the 6.6.1999.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Craving A Taste Of Kiwi
last night I lonesome had
irresistible urge to eat kiwi
craving a taste of kai kiwi
the earth is giver of all life
from the soil comes food
native foods New Zealand
that same food is cooked
in oven beneath the earth
but expatriate here will find
no hangi traditional feast
nor any food of home forest
stream sea or gardens kiwi
years since eaten white bait
fresh silver jewels of Buller
River in my far home town
kumara tasty potato sweet
no traditional delicacies
grace my table no hangi
cooked meat vegetables
placed on bed hot stones
in bottom of dug hangi
hole no birds fish kiwi
wild herbs roots mixed
no food cloth covered
before mound of earth
traps heat around food
Maori tourism visitors
eat as guests hangi food
no taewa tutaekuri pass
lips deep purple potato
no rewena pararoa pass
lips potato Maori bread
my father puha gathered
a leafy vegetable green
to be found growing wild
after heavy Buller rains
kowhitiwhiti watercress
also smiling he harvested
greenlip mussels off rocks
at seashore neap low tides
greenlip mussels I ate
as kuku patties paua
from mother of pearl
shells in far away land
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Manuka Tea Tree Kiwi Nectar
tiny miracle flowers
scent tuned appease
distempered souls
mānuka honey
kiwi wild flavour
wind clover
earthy oily
herbaceous
damp earth
heather
aromatic
flavour
mānuka flowers
dense branch small leaves
evergreen sirens
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Toasted Public Over Exposure
What's the difference between Russell Crowe
and kiwi expat poet Terence George Craddock
Russell is fame toasted public over exposure
Craddock is vision stealth sight under the radar!
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Japanese Cars
I want
my money back.
I Don’t Want
a Jap death trap.
I Want To
get There and Back.
Looks Good but what’s that.
Six Foot under Potato Patch.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem reflects reported media concern with regard to vehicle safety standards, during the period of its composition in April 1991, over the safety of Japanese’s cars when crashing on New Zealand roads. Design adaptations to suit the demands of kiwi roads and driving habits solved these problems and Japanese cars soon dominated the market. Japanese vans were an even greater danger with unprotected support when rolling and were recalled and redesigned. See also ‘Responsibility In The Workforce’, ‘The Art Of Gift Giving’ and ‘The Art Of Word to gain a realistic insight into true Japanese sense and sensibility.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Christchurch
It’s a small town.
It’s only a suburb.
But it’s a nice suburb.
Sometimes a suburb
can be a nice place to see.
Flowering free kiwi city
of botanic elfin trees.
Cathedral garden
city of New Zealand.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Hayley Westerna Sings Pokarekare Ana
as night tides
turn in ebb flow ink
satin kiwi soul
swims in kiwiana
so long since wore
kiwi swanndri green
hiking in native mystic
bush mountain home
no hype bake fake
lady gaga or baby baby bieber
inferior cheap commercial
soap opera dance routine
roam unseen ghost walker
steeped in distant continents
tropical diverse equator islands
seeks haunting native song home
Hayley Westerna
sings Pokarekare Ana
in sung native Maori lore
with English subtitles
foam mist siren words
of earliest childhood
flood in harmonic beauty
image scenes spectral home
music stirs magical melody
stirring die in cultural
moments eternal memory
in love mist home
gone far voyager
across siren seas
remember in battle
I fell far from home
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in May 2011 on the 6.5.2011.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Home Ominous Flight
come walk we two
across flame red sky
two birds soar flying
silent solitary shadows
would clip our wings
in home ominous flight
blood red flame sunsets
bathe glorious horizons
bruised epic bleed rivers
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Land Stamp Kiwi Souls
does not forest, lakes, rivers,
windswept beaches, ocean tides,
ebb flow in kiwi artistic souls?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Brass Monkey
We live on in
separate salient
parallel lives.
After forced final
silent thundering
non-communicative
goodbyes.
Andrea’s so extreme
weekend winter
tenting biking.
At annual winter
Brass Monkey
rally biker met.
Engines roar
friends ride
roaring off together.
Road embracing
to rally partaking
to Brass Monkey.
Coldest below zero
southern hemisphere
rally. In Dunedin region,
in New Zealand’s most,
southern scenic region.
Legendary biker rally
now hotly ironically threatened
by expanding global warming.
Was no room for me
kiwi prison warden
could not sentenced be.
Andrea choose a meat
processing worker.
He had two houses
I had zero options
I had no work.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Creation Starvation Diet
interesting really
'starving to make music'
is desirable
because passion burns
creativity must flow
emotions outpourings
artists are other
creative New Zealanders
who excel
drew on themselves
their kiwi self
unique artistic other
a quality
of seeing
past
packaged
commercial
hype
great 60s
70s,80s,
90s artist
always
were a genuine
exploration
of their own
exceptional
musical gifts
copies fade
timeless
originality
lasts
stands the test
of time
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Hope Always To Write
'hope always to write more
not to be a good poet'
the words of my friend
Hosny Soliman defined
my thoughts perfectly
to write just a little more
to gift just a little more
to give just a little more
with no thought wasted
upon desire to write
a good poem a great poem
Splitting image from the poem ‘We Sing Our Love In Life Worships’ by Terence George Craddock.
Dedicated to the painter poet Hosney Soliman.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Purple Lady
A welcome Christmas break.
Half a week off the turps.
Time for wine, whiskey, gin,
vodka, sambuca, ouzo and peach schnapps.
Or peach schnapps vodka ouzo combinations.
But what is the exact formula
for Helen’s secret recipe?
A really well mixed purple lady?
Sixty percent meths
to forty percent
straight orange juice.
Or meths seventy thirty
to get really spacy
before getting drunk.
Helen said getting back
on the meths
is like
‘holding hands
with a long lost lover’.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Turps and Meths – both are colloquial New Zealand kiwi
terms for methylated spirits.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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