Iona Winter

Latest News

  • Published

    Kia ora WordPress whānau, Today I’ve had a short story published in The Island Review. This story was submitted before I travelled to Edinburgh (from Aotearoa, New Zealand) to read at… Read more

  • womb

    kaleidoscopic web veined whenua blood suspended   kākano undulating anointed and ripe   taonga omnipotent infinite womb Read more

  • Writing in all its glory

    Kia ora whānau, friends and supporters, I’m delighted to share this news with you all. Yesterday I was awarded the Headland 2016 Frontier Prize for story of the year by an unpublished… Read more

  • shackle

    a formerly acquainted terror surges forth from a throwaway line disrupting the equilibrium and held breath locks tight vigilant fractured edges on a shackled network of memory etched skin Read more

  • Eggshell

    I fish around the bowl, for bits of eggshell that have dropped. “No yolk, only the whites,” my grandmother’s mantra. The shell eludes me. A small piece darts around the layers of… Read more

  • Updates

    Kia ora WordPress whānau, I’m stoked to say my story ‘Honey’ was chosen for the latest Flash Frontier publication: Birds (one of my favourite topics and sources of inspiration!). This wonderful collection of local and international… Read more

  • Filigree

    Ngahere-forest-bush-woodland filigreed leaves underfoot trunks delicately lichened offer canopied shelter within.   In limitless peace it all ends and begins kākāriki shoots are embedded in the cracks between stones as am I.   Read more

  • tendril

    i dream of subtle touch  silken-tendril-cobwebs where morning dew clings ahead of its release earthwards   your facial contour as familiar as lines on my palm why does my skin remember the pulse of you beneath it?… Read more

  • kōwhai

    I walk at night to different sounds as the land stills herself and breathes out my ears always pick up more when my sight is less. Beneath ancient kōwhai trees with blackened skin I allow myself… Read more

  • kāinga

    up here the city is like a war zone sirens-helicopters-violence with indigenous forms commodified on buildings and some of my friends will say they’re immune   i’m impatient for harakeke wind-song old gnarled scented-blossom trees and familiar paths out to… Read more