I know some things
like you'd rather have seen a rotary
...
A slate step, a brass knocker, the old
forgotten greeting, failte. I thought the stories
...
Here I am with my winter heart, my winter
body like an old suitcase. It's summer,
...
Bless all gentle creatures like the lion
that comes up to you pad pad as you sit
...
The clouds stack up like gorgeous quilts on the horizon.
The body is the ship that will take us to an honest place.
...
There is a fine line between the painter's
finger and her thumb, between the open door
...
Bernadette Hall (born 1945 in Alexandra, New Zealand) is a New Zealand writer and poet. She was raised in what she describes as a small-city Catholic community that was proud, theatrical and pretty much enclosed. After a career as a teacher of Latin and classical studies she started writing full time in her 40s. She has held residencies at both Canterbury University and Victoria University and is widely published. She spent 10 years as the editor of Takahe magazine and five as the poetry editor of The Press, Christchurch's main daily newspaper. Hall's The Lustre Jug is a finalist in the 2010 New Zealand Post Book Awards.)
Early Settler
You dream a hand
that will stitch a flag
to the bullet-hole
in your shoulder
you dream a man
who wears a huia feather,
stands all Heathcliff
in the doorway
of the prefabricated house
you dream a door-post
painted with your insignia:
a monkey, a black swan feather,
a bike lock
Hi, Bernadette...we don't know each other, but I wonder if you would do me a favor. Would you mind looking at some of my poems and offering some critique? I read poems like yours and like what I see, very much. But it seems that when I try to write, they just don't flow as well as yours seem to. If you have a few minutes to spare and wouldn't mind offering some hints or tips on my work, I would appreciate it. Thanks much, Mark Money