Iona Winter

Tag: poetry

  • 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.  

  • 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?   i dream of subtle touch silken-tendril-spiderwebs where morning dew clings

  • 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 to be showered by their blossoms. My story has no beginning or end but is a bundle of kelp multi–stranded and…

  • 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 the pā kāinga-home beckons me   up here people live under concrete bridges amidst the steady hum of traffic to lull them to sleep while governments refuse to tackle poverty…

  • old ways

    i wish for the old ways of recompense rather than the blame that pervades modernity   transgression affects a whole whānau oscillates the extremities leaving none untouched   i wish for the old ways where the offence was laid down with intention at the feet of the other

  • resonate

    your gaze references inherant mirrors and sonorous caverns of forgotten lovers faint echoes engraved in the bedrock   your words glide willingly subcutaneous breath resonates off damp walls and i recognise sanctuary lies within  

  • voice

    your voice holds mine within time, place, land and sea illuminate awakened shadow selves fit seamless constellations hands memorised no expectation freedom inside our conscious touch your voice holds mine within

  • hills

    a forgotten past convenient to bury within fathomless wardrobes   not long ago grandmothers burned alive like torches up there on the hills   ancient anger resurfaces when sisters are treated with a similar cowardice   but my interior is illuminated without the need for a closet

  • quiet

      i am  rinsed clean by the currents deep-blue-green-water-clarity tethered far below like a buoy the weight soon slips quiet from my shoulders i wait back against the clay face outwards to the wind rinsed clean

  • reminder

    i’d forgotten there could be security in a single bed tucked up, flannel sheets, hot-water-bottle-sweaty-warmth seeping through me sometimes we don’t realise how far we’ve come until a friend reminds us that we are safe these days tucked up in a single bed for the night