This Friday’s poem is Rain by Hone Tuwhare, chosen because we’ve had some but need some more.


It’s from An Anthology of Twentieth Century New Zealand Poetry, published by Oxford, University Press, 1976.




I can hear you making

small holes in the silence



If I were deaf

the pores of my skin

would open to you

and shut


And I should know you

by the lick of you

if I were blind:


the steady drum-roll

sound you make

when the wind drops


the something

special smell of you

when the sun cakes

the ground


But if I should not


smell of feel or see you


you would still

define me

disperse me

wash over me



– Hone Tuwhare –  

One Response to Rain

  1. pbmcbeth says:

    An excellent choice… thank you… it’s been a while since I’ve indulged in Tuwhare…


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