Hello, everyone.
Allen Curnow died in 2001 at the age of 90. Much of his poetry was written while he was a teacher in Auckland and is about the Waitākere Ranges.
Michele Leggott was born in New Zealand in 1956, and she became its poetry laureate between 2007 and 2009.
Two themes from the first poetic text are the ocean and the tide. You could write about these subjects.
A theme from the second poetic text is distance. Write about something that is distant or becoming more distant.
The first poetic text begins with a quotation. You could start your text by quoting someone else and giving the source.
Both of the sample texts are slightly longer this week. You could attempt to write something with a greater length than usual but stay focused and efficient.
Six words to attempt to incorporate into your writing from Curnow: fault, error, pale, science, life, rescue.
Six words from Leggott: quiet, determination, found, empty, voices, sound.
If you have a copy of The Exercise Book (Manhire, Duncum, Price & Wilkins), turn to page "#125: Feeling the Way" for an additional challenge.
That's all. I hope you are inspired to write today.
Looking West, Late Afternoon, Low Water
by Allen Curnow
The typical tidal range, or difference in sea level between high and low tides,
in the open ocean is about 2 ft (0.6 m), but it is much greater near the coasts.
—Desk encyclopaedia
Our beach was never so bare. Freak tide,
system fault, inhuman error, will it
never stop falling? After dark, said
the tables of high water and sunset
pasted on the wall, which don’t deceive.
Come on down for a walk while there’s light.
A wall of pale green glass miles above
head high alongside, complete with fish
crossing, is what will have been the wave
once it has broken. Leviathan is
the beached cachalot we left Bob Falla
filleting for science, the ebb to wash
away these fifty years, each one smaller
than the last. Come down, this is today
delivered factory fresh, in colour
heated by the late sun. Time to try
looking on the bright side, or join those
Great God! (says the poem) who’d rather be
suckled in a creed outworn: but whose
cast-off cult’s to be the lucky one?
Great waters, unfinished business, done
blind to the deadline. From that rock, to
this tree was tapu and it sticks. Thin
pickings, Tangaroa, this is pakeha
story time, only Okeanos and
sister Tethys having it off; the way
they love makes hairy cliff-hanging seas
roll drums on the sand, the 3-metre swell
flat on the seabed bangs the pubes,
very ancient and fishlike they smell
close to. Divine all the same. Dangerous,
not to be approached, least of all by
mortal man whose years are four-score plus
tomorrow night. While I count the three
strong swimmers carried past out of sight
round the North Rocks the whole shoreline shakes
underfoot again, dead friends call out
not to be heard. Look west, what looks
back is blood-orange nightfall, the stooped
sky drowning another sun overboard
where the horizon was: till it snapped
those deep-sea moorings and will be heard
oncoming, the sound of a scream, tsunami!
tsunami! splintering deadwood of the boat
I lost half a life ago, swept
away with a judgment on the work
she’s amateur built but your friends won’t know.
Last seen, one inflatable rescue
craft stood on its tuck, bows to skyward
in fast failing light, a turning tide.
Speaking Distance
by Michele Leggott
Who is speaking? Our correspondent on the hill above the river, making pictures for exhibition in other places. Each stroke of his pen ricochets across the valley. He sees what he wants to see. He does not hear what he cannot see. A smoking ruin behind him. Another
waiting just around the bend. airy particulates
A path leads from the pa to a ford of the river hard by, which was that traversed by the raiders on their return.
Nothing was heard but the occasional yell until about 8 pm, when we could again distinctly hear the yells repeated, and then all was again quiet, save the sentinels’ “All’s well.”
was, it seems, waha, mouth
The stream at this spot is about 90 yards wide, and its depth is about 3 feet.
Then a shout of “stand to your arms,” which was followed by a heavy volley from the rebels, who set up a most unearthly yell.
wavering, with two hearts
The south bank is flat and low, and on that side there is a good deal of marsh.
They were full of determination, and at times came within speaking distance, inviting our men to come on, who replied by recommending them to stand out.
led the women in resisting the survey
The north bank is high and steep, and its precipitous sides are clothed with karaka and fern trees, whose luxuriant foliage, thickly matted with the vine, and parasite plants which grow there in abundance, forms a sort of vegetable wall.
Several old women were vociferous in encouraging the enemy.
to get shellfish from the reef
The landscape is extremely pretty.
They were blowing their horns and shouting for a long time, and in the morning it was found that the sap rollers had disappeared, and also a quantity of gabions.
this white flag is not an emblem of peace
The camp shows above the windings of the river, which pursues its tortuous course over a shingly bed, and is lost to view in the distance.
All the peach trees, karaka trees, where the picnic parties used to go, have been cut down.
a comet, west northwest, portending
The sun shining on the white tops of the tents renders their outline particularly distinct.
Every time a shell is thrown they set up a general howl of defiance, followed by such challenges as “Come on, Pakeha!” “Come on,
soldier — come on!”
left on the ground for the pigs and sea gulls (karoro)
In the distance the sea presents an unvaried, unbroken line, and the snowy peak of the mountain to the left adds considerably to the scene.
During the night they contented themselves by wasting on us all the bad epithets and evil wishes their language is capable of.
“a mate noa,” till death
The road down to the ford on the north bank is very steep, insomuch that it is a necessary precaution to dismount and lead a horse.
They have several blowing horns, by means of which they mimic our bugle sounds. These horns are heard both day and night, and it is probable that they have certain established calls, which they all understand and adopt on particular occasions.
wrote his name on a tub
The raiders, however, managed to get their bullock drays up to the top, but it is presumed they were empty, and that their contents must have been brought up by hand.
On Monday night the guard in No. 8 Redoubt were entertained until about 2 o’clock by Hapurona, who was urging his people most vehemently to attack them, and said they were very weak in it. He said the Governor had done him all sorts of injury, and that he would scatter our bones over the Waitara.
a blue shirt braided with scarlet
The ground about the pa is tolerably clear, and it is in part intersected by fences.
Several of the men in the redoubt knew his voice and what he said quite well.
being covered with myriads of empty cartridge cases
A solitary canoe was found half full of water near the ford.
During the night voices heard on our right, that of a woman being most conspicuous. She was endeavoring to incite the people to some desperate action by relating the deeds of her forebears.
being pouri (grieved)
How do they sound, drifting back to him there on the side of the road down by the river or along the beach? A group of riders coming the other way, a group the artist did not catch in his notebook and they were gone before he thought to turn around and look after their retreating voices. Top hat and sidesaddle. Onaero, Urenui, Wai-iti, Pukearuhe.