This Friday’s poem is Humming by Hone Tuwhare from his collection Oooooo…..!!! published by Steele Roberts.
I’ll leave it to you to find – or not – a message for Waitangi Day in it.
It is a house to be constructed with care
for it has no confining walls
thus permitting expansion: vertical
growth is not inhibited for there is no limit to the height of the ceiling
stretching to heaven. This house
can endure given a chance, that’s
for sure … H m m m m
But since it is of earth its foundations may be
built of sand: and because there are
no confining walls this fragile house
of love may be seen as layers of light
and colour – a feeling tone – warm, purple
orange grey hot and cold with lots of blue
and yellow to make it green – green
was predicatble … H m m m m
Fleshed out though, this house of love isn’t
ageless, but ages old. It has form; contour.
It has presence; a brilliant arc uniting
heaven and hell; love-thoughts in pursuit of
a physical expression – a noisy, gloppy
Aha Aha – Aha – Aha Aha
… and horses, huffing and pounding into
the straight, riders snarling, cruel whips
flailing – the anguish of stretched leather
reeking sweetly of sweat … And reason? Ahh.
Reason is a hunchback of irrelevance backing
quietly out the door.
But where are the flowers – the select flowers
of endearment, soul-food to dazzle the heart?
O, they’re here, all right: there, there
and THERE … H m m m
– Hone Tuwhare –