I am thinking today of endings and beginnings, and how we often think we are not ready for either. We are. In the words of A.A. Milne: “You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, smarter than you think, and loved more than you know.” The End The end comes gently, on tiny…
Before You
Once upon a time (actually, ten years ago today) I screamed and swore my way through 24 hours of excruciating labour before a disturbingly cheerful surgeon sliced open my stomach at 3am and pulled out a tiny wailing creature who would prevent me from sleeping/weeing on my own/having any peace/existing as an autonomous adult for…
A trio of poems
In honour of World Poetry Day (which was actually yesterday), I thought I would re-publish three of my own poems - poems that are dear to me in very different ways. The first I wrote for my daughter, the most precious thing in my life. It tries to capture those moments in the wee small hours…
Less really is more
Here is another poem inspired by my daughter. It's amazing how an everyday task can spark a creative impulse. At first I tried to make the poem much longer, and sat for a number of hours trying to come up with more clever and intricate word plays and puns. In the end, I just went with the few,…
Old Love
Love not like the novices do, intently, purposefully. Now that you know the ropes, you can swing on them. Love like over-ripe peaches: too sweet, too juicy, fit to burst. Love like the wild ones who howl at the moon and seek at dawn with satiate ease their beds of oblivion. Love like beasts with your…
A Posy of Poems
It's been a while, but here I am at last. Some time ago I wrote a post listing some of my favourite books. I badly need to update it and will do so before too long. But today, given it is National Poetry Day here in NZ, I want to talk poetry. I love reading poetry…
My daughter’s bedside, 3am
Mothers Day (tomorrow in New Zealand) is always special to me. I am so proud to be a mother, and so very grateful. I wrote this poem today. My daughter's bedside, 3am You are far away, somewhere mothers cannot follow. But I am near; so near your breath is my blanket. It won’t be long until the…
The Gift of Poetry
I love getting presents, especially when they are precisely what I want at that moment in time. But if I could only get one more present for the rest of my life, it would be this: a poem written exclusively for me, by one of the poets I truly love. I would want to meet…
Gender Matters Matter
I dug this poem out today - I must have written it when I was around 9 or 10. What a laugh. I'll admit, along with some subtle editing, I've made one significant change today - Elly has changed from a boy to a girl elephant (and without the complicated surgery.) Recently I read an opinion piece…
After the party
As our bodies collide and we miss each other, I start thinking of all the times we have touched but not touched. I open my mouth to tell you this then shut it again without saying a word. Our bodies part and we tuck and fold, packaging ourselves up again, gifting ourselves once more to everything…
Patricia Bell, Author 