#NewZealandWriters #Women
In the middle of our porridge plat… There was a blue butterfly painted And each morning we tried who shou… butterfly first. Then the Grandmother said: “Do n…
We started speaking, Looked at each other, then turned… The tears kept rising to my eyes. But I could not weep. I wanted to take your hand
Now’s the time when children’s nos… All become as red as roses And the colour of their faces Makes me think of orchard places Where the juicy apples grow,
I Ran to the forest for shelter, Breathless, half sobbing; I put my arms round a tree, Pillowed my head against the rough… “Protect me,” I said. “I am a lo…
In an opal dream cave I found a f… Her wings were frailer than flower… Frailer far than snowflakes. She was not frightened, but poised… Then delicately walked into my han…
Grant me the moment, the lovely mo… That I may lean forth to see The other buds, the other blooms, The other leaves on the tree: That I may take into my bosom
The further the little girl leaped… The further she longed to be; The white, white fields of jonquil… Danced up as high as her knee And flashed and sparkled before he…
Hinemoa, Tui, Maina, All of them were born together; They are quite an extra special Set of babies—wax and leather. Every day they took an airing;
In the very early morning Long before Dawn time I lay down in the paddock And listened to the cold song of t… Between my fingers the green blade…
Rain and wind, and wind and rain. Will the Summer come again? Rain on houses, on the street, Wetting all the people’s feet, Though they run with might and mai…
That deaf old man With his hand to his ear— His hand to hi head stood out like… Horny and hollow. He said, “I ca… He muttered, “Don’t shout,
Now folds the Tree of Day its per… And every bloom becomes a bud agai… Shut and sealed up against the gol… Of bees that hover in the velvet h… Now a strain
These be two Countrywomen. What a size! Grand big arms And round red faces;
Into the world you sent her, mothe… Fashioned her body of coral and fo… Combed a wave in her hair’s warm s… And drove her away from home In the dark of the night she crept…
My Babbles has a nasty knack Of keeping monkeys on her back. A great big black one comes and sw… Right on her sash or pinny strings… It is a horrid thing and wild