seesawandsaysay is my artist aka. I paint and I write. I am inspired by my three year old daughter and Basquiat, Klee, Pollock, McCahon and Gimblett, with a touch of Rothko. I write poetry when it hits me and I’ve written a novella called Even Time, and have more books to come. I live in New Zealand with my wife and two little girls and I believe their innocence is the most precious thing in the world.
a poem is conceived in private
much like a child
the wild, Holy consummation, all consuming
born of love
but bearing so much pain and suffering,
muffled cries, truths and lies,
sometimes the difference is hard to find.
I was born with bated breath,
fresh and clean,
once they wiped off the blood and amniotic fluid
and cut the cord
scissors like a sword
severing the most sacred connection
that I will ever know.
I was born to it
and there is no place quite like home.
Poetry is the forsaken cry, the loneliest voices with the loudest minds,
captured in ink, blighted by drink, or bolstered,
emboldened with the bravado to think big,
to sing on a page,
to rage against the silence of days
spent drifting through the passive malaise,
the love of something and not for how it pays.
Poetry is the air up there, despair in the mind of a scribe
at not being able to fly, so it is
the flight of birds described by those who live in unknowns
to those who dream of being free.
Poetry is anything between a sucker punch or a long lunch,
a coupe de grace or a warm embrace.
It’s the lines of life in a face,
the wrinkled space between
never and eternity.