
Poems and some notes to go with them, and an occasional idea for a writing exercise.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
An Aotearoa Affair #1: Crossings
Frankfurt Bookfair 2012: An Aotearoa Affair edition #1: Crossings features the blog entry Pasifika Queen Mab as one of the contributions. Take a look at the home site that introduces German and Kiwi poets, storytellers, bloggers and artists as part of the approach to the Frankfurt 2012 book fair, where New Zealand is the guest of honour.


Thursday, February 23, 2012
Poetry Unplugged
I visited the Poetry Cafe last night to take part in Poetry Unplugged, their open mike evening. I read "shell" and "Pasifika Queen Mab", over-running my slot to my shame!
Monday, February 20, 2012
Torriano Meeting House Reading
I visited the Torriano Meeting House last night to hear Katherine Gallagher and Clare Crossman read. I also read "The Travails of the Wise Trainer" from the floor.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Floaters
Floaters
“Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace” – Amelia Earhart
Sometimes she dreamed she was flying,
And sometimes she was flying,
Navigating the journey with a sextant
While floating in thin air,
Sinking to the beckoning seas
Without expectation of end.
It takes one mirror,
One fleck of glinting silvered glass,
To catch the sun and send a ray of light
Down the dusty hollow of a dark hallway
Catching each dancing mote in the path
Of confused locations.
And she was not.
Lost in a peculiar eternity, hopeful
In anticipation of foreverness,
Dreaming over the empty ocean,
Not sitting outside a mediocrity
Of boarding houses and noon-time darknesses.
© Martin Porter 2012
“Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace” – Amelia Earhart
Sometimes she dreamed she was flying,
And sometimes she was flying,
Navigating the journey with a sextant
While floating in thin air,
Sinking to the beckoning seas
Without expectation of end.
It takes one mirror,
One fleck of glinting silvered glass,
To catch the sun and send a ray of light
Down the dusty hollow of a dark hallway
Catching each dancing mote in the path
Of confused locations.
And she was not.
Lost in a peculiar eternity, hopeful
In anticipation of foreverness,
Dreaming over the empty ocean,
Not sitting outside a mediocrity
Of boarding houses and noon-time darknesses.
© Martin Porter 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Innominate Group and other Travels
I will be visiting the innominate poetry group in Jersey on Friday February 3rd.
I will be reading "Floaters", a yet unpublished poem.
I will be travelling to the UK, Rome and Canada soon after.
I will be reading "Floaters", a yet unpublished poem.
I will be travelling to the UK, Rome and Canada soon after.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Sealed Tombs - notes on negativity
Sealed Tombs is a poem of negatives, not a negative poem. It maintains a positive description by defining subject matter through a set of boundary conditions. The confinement of possibilities gives opportunity for the reader or listener to interact and create their own image, making the experience a potentially positive experience. It also adds an element of risk, making the reader work harder to create their own vision of the subject.
The poem is not entirely consistent. The vocabulary becomes increasingly positive as the poem progresses, offering development from imagination to substance. The poem climaxes with the most clearly defined positive, the ironic negative action of gasping their curses.
Even so, there is still plenty of space for the reader to use the imagination by the use of ambiguity, for example “no spectres/ rattle the bones” offers the possibility that the bones are not rattled or that “no spectres” are doing the rattling. Now, I’m not sure what that means, but the possibilities have kept me thinking. Certainly, bones seem to be disturbed in most excavated tombs, either by natural actions such as earth movement, or by collapse of the framework that holds them in position or even internal decay.
The poem is not entirely consistent. The vocabulary becomes increasingly positive as the poem progresses, offering development from imagination to substance. The poem climaxes with the most clearly defined positive, the ironic negative action of gasping their curses.
Even so, there is still plenty of space for the reader to use the imagination by the use of ambiguity, for example “no spectres/ rattle the bones” offers the possibility that the bones are not rattled or that “no spectres” are doing the rattling. Now, I’m not sure what that means, but the possibilities have kept me thinking. Certainly, bones seem to be disturbed in most excavated tombs, either by natural actions such as earth movement, or by collapse of the framework that holds them in position or even internal decay.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Floating
Gently lifting with the ocean,
Sweeping slowly up the shore,
She is resting on the boundary
Somewhere between air and more
Substantial fluids on her body
Offer her to turquoise light
Looking down from cloud free heavens
Looking to the Sun which might
One day drift from daily motion
Sinking into nightly rest
Glowing dim in richest crimson
Falling sea-ward in the west
Where wheeling terns once congregated
Against a foaming faded moon
Suspended in the paling sunshine
Framed by marram stubbled dune
Salt spray seasoned sea-sage sweetened
Breeze blown clean of vraic and sand
Swept branches stick black fingers upward
Urging gulls to leave the land
And forge out from their earthy havens
Venture forth without a notion
Of where to go or where to settle
Gently lifting with the ocean.
© Martin Porter 2000
Floating is a single stanza poem structured around metre and rhyme. It explores the understanding of boundaries, in this case the boundary between sea and sky. The metre is semi-regular and is based more on rhythms of speech than any formal metric. The forward motion of the poem is maintained by not adhering to a regular or strict metre and this is also meant to reflect the semi-regular movement of waves on the sea.
Floating is also published on Take Flight Whangarei.
Sweeping slowly up the shore,
She is resting on the boundary
Somewhere between air and more
Substantial fluids on her body
Offer her to turquoise light
Looking down from cloud free heavens
Looking to the Sun which might
One day drift from daily motion
Sinking into nightly rest
Glowing dim in richest crimson
Falling sea-ward in the west
Where wheeling terns once congregated
Against a foaming faded moon
Suspended in the paling sunshine
Framed by marram stubbled dune
Salt spray seasoned sea-sage sweetened
Breeze blown clean of vraic and sand
Swept branches stick black fingers upward
Urging gulls to leave the land
And forge out from their earthy havens
Venture forth without a notion
Of where to go or where to settle
Gently lifting with the ocean.
© Martin Porter 2000
Floating is a single stanza poem structured around metre and rhyme. It explores the understanding of boundaries, in this case the boundary between sea and sky. The metre is semi-regular and is based more on rhythms of speech than any formal metric. The forward motion of the poem is maintained by not adhering to a regular or strict metre and this is also meant to reflect the semi-regular movement of waves on the sea.
Floating is also published on Take Flight Whangarei.
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