To Mangaweka
Signposts to the unknown . . .
A marae covered with a blue tarpaulin
And a fence made of lawnmower sculptures
The Space Runner goods express waits in the loop for us to pass
Derelict farm machinery, cars and ruins of old houses, skeletal and broken
Viaducts and deep ravened rivers, white cliffs and small, unnamed towns
Through the cutting the land is rugged and wet
Browns, greens, and the milky-grey sky
where the sun tries to make a break-through
Taihape
Two magpies attacking a hawk, and pukekos
Standing nonchalantly by the track
Another hawk circling the train in the rain . . .
(where once I, futuristically, held you in my arms, you wearing your beautiful black dress – tonight I hold you in my memory) . . . and inland seagulls play
Corrugated gumboot kicks out
and the train travels high above the township
Logs, fenceposts and planks of wood stacked high at the local timber yards
a stand of yellow willows and rock outcrops
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
2-Poem #7 - Palmerston Nth&Marton - Michael O'Leary
Palmerston North
The rain arrives, the clouds have been steadily
building since leaving Kapiti
Rolled up hay bales transported by a lone truck or
decaying in a paddock
Bridge over a river as the sun returns, the scenes of
farm industry dots the land
Blue smoke goes drifting by from a track-side fire,
its smell enters the carriage
Deer runs, suburban backyards, industrial sidings
still active. Changing cars
As a group of rail-enthusiasts get on after a trip
to Gisborne –
I’m now in the low-Paying peasants part of the train
being, of course, a low-paying peasant.
Children Screeching and this carriage doesn’t
have a table to write on.
The seedy, loud-speaker Stalinist architecture
of the station, its isolation
Marton
Whence I jumped a goods train at 3am in 1973
To Whanganui on my pilgrimage to Jerusalem
Its funny now, nearly thirty years later
Baxter’s family have entered my life
As friends at Paekakariki. Murals and memories
At Fielding, beforehand, box-cars standing
Like relics from a pre-container past
The dark, lush vegetation and steady hill climbs
of the central North Island
The rain arrives, the clouds have been steadily
building since leaving Kapiti
Rolled up hay bales transported by a lone truck or
decaying in a paddock
Bridge over a river as the sun returns, the scenes of
farm industry dots the land
Blue smoke goes drifting by from a track-side fire,
its smell enters the carriage
Deer runs, suburban backyards, industrial sidings
still active. Changing cars
As a group of rail-enthusiasts get on after a trip
to Gisborne –
I’m now in the low-Paying peasants part of the train
being, of course, a low-paying peasant.
Children Screeching and this carriage doesn’t
have a table to write on.
The seedy, loud-speaker Stalinist architecture
of the station, its isolation
Marton
Whence I jumped a goods train at 3am in 1973
To Whanganui on my pilgrimage to Jerusalem
Its funny now, nearly thirty years later
Baxter’s family have entered my life
As friends at Paekakariki. Murals and memories
At Fielding, beforehand, box-cars standing
Like relics from a pre-container past
The dark, lush vegetation and steady hill climbs
of the central North Island
Friday, July 16, 2010
2-Poem #6 - Levin&Shannon - Michael O'Leary
Levin
Contented cattle graze on the outskirts
Of Manakau, standing still
Like the row of Antique shops (in both senses of the word)
Pre-fabricated houses and stockyards
A wasteland of old rail goods yards
Two Phoenix palms wave goodbye
We are leavin’ Levin
Heading inland
away from the road.
To Shannon
A flock of birds crosses the expansive inland sky
The distant ranges are bathed
In a long, diffuse ray of light.
The autumn colours are noticeable
By their exotic, virtual non-existence
A farm house elevated
Isolated atop a plateauxed hillock
Trees and flax bushes block out
the picturesque township
Contented cattle graze on the outskirts
Of Manakau, standing still
Like the row of Antique shops (in both senses of the word)
Pre-fabricated houses and stockyards
A wasteland of old rail goods yards
Two Phoenix palms wave goodbye
We are leavin’ Levin
Heading inland
away from the road.
To Shannon
A flock of birds crosses the expansive inland sky
The distant ranges are bathed
In a long, diffuse ray of light.
The autumn colours are noticeable
By their exotic, virtual non-existence
A farm house elevated
Isolated atop a plateauxed hillock
Trees and flax bushes block out
the picturesque township
Thursday, July 15, 2010
2 Poem #5 - Waikanae&Otaki
Waikanae
A house with the word
H O U S E
Written on a fence
(reminiscent of another ‘trip’
Once taken on LSD, the main hallucination
Involved a boat which had the word
BOAT
Written where the boat’s name usually is!)
Waikanae: eccentric middle-class ghetto
Otaki
Derelict rail lines
Leading . . .
To a stone-crushing
Outdoor factory
The train slows
Waiting . . .
At the restored
But unstopped-at
Otaki Station
A house with the word
H O U S E
Written on a fence
(reminiscent of another ‘trip’
Once taken on LSD, the main hallucination
Involved a boat which had the word
BOAT
Written where the boat’s name usually is!)
Waikanae: eccentric middle-class ghetto
Otaki
Derelict rail lines
Leading . . .
To a stone-crushing
Outdoor factory
The train slows
Waiting . . .
At the restored
But unstopped-at
Otaki Station
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
2 Poem #4 Rail Stations NIMT - Michael O'Leary
Paekakariki
Waves pound the shore as the storm
Builds from the south. Walking to the station
To catch the early morning train.
A minor fright occurs as the local connection
To Paraparaumu is late, but Pat reassures me
Pointing out that the Auckland train
Has to pass the unit which leaves Wellington
Fifteen minutes before it …
a highly unlikely scenario!
Paraparaumu
The statue of the Virgin rises up
Through the hillside vegetation
Like an ethereal vision –
The local train waits in the second platform
For the Auckland train to pass
Power pylons cross the landscape
The lurid blue house
On the way to Waikanae . . .
stands with cabbage trees
Waves pound the shore as the storm
Builds from the south. Walking to the station
To catch the early morning train.
A minor fright occurs as the local connection
To Paraparaumu is late, but Pat reassures me
Pointing out that the Auckland train
Has to pass the unit which leaves Wellington
Fifteen minutes before it …
a highly unlikely scenario!
Paraparaumu
The statue of the Virgin rises up
Through the hillside vegetation
Like an ethereal vision –
The local train waits in the second platform
For the Auckland train to pass
Power pylons cross the landscape
The lurid blue house
On the way to Waikanae . . .
stands with cabbage trees
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
2 Poem #3 Disappearing Railroad Blues Sonnet - Michael O'Leary
Disappearing Railroad Blues Sonnet
(thanks to Arlo and Woody)
We caught the last 'Northerner' overnight train service
between Auckland and Wellington in response to
that particular piece of corporate vandalism. It was
appropriate that me and my friend Paddy, who
worked on the railway with me in Otago, should
take the final ticket to ride (Yes, its true, all those
old Irish songs about Paddy and Mick working on
the railway!!!). During the trip I showed my novel
'Unlevel Crossings' to the train crew, and they really
loved it, as part of it describes the overnight journey
from Auckland to Wellington. All the train crew
including the engine drivers, signed it for me
so I have a lasting memento of the event and another
cross-over between working class and literary realities
(thanks to Arlo and Woody)
We caught the last 'Northerner' overnight train service
between Auckland and Wellington in response to
that particular piece of corporate vandalism. It was
appropriate that me and my friend Paddy, who
worked on the railway with me in Otago, should
take the final ticket to ride (Yes, its true, all those
old Irish songs about Paddy and Mick working on
the railway!!!). During the trip I showed my novel
'Unlevel Crossings' to the train crew, and they really
loved it, as part of it describes the overnight journey
from Auckland to Wellington. All the train crew
including the engine drivers, signed it for me
so I have a lasting memento of the event and another
cross-over between working class and literary realities
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