Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Tuesday Poem: "Big Stupid Grin"

It was the type of day Wellington is infamous for:
rain slanting into the pursed and puckered faces
of harried pedestrians

and l, out and about with my secret
that in the tall towers where the wheels
grind slowly

a thing not made of commerce
a growing not spurred by market forces
an investment not subject to whims and crises,

but a spark ignited by two people
laying themselves open to love
and hope and dreams and

schemes sometimes lost sight of,
was fanning the flame,
the head, heart, flesh, bone and wairua

of a life
taking root in my beloved's belly,
a life long longed for

a life
whose existence sweeps before it all petty irritations
and affixes itself on my face

as a big stupid grin

The poet wishes to acknowledge Valley Micropress in whose pages this poem first appeared.


  1. Nice, I like big stupid grins! The movement of the poem works so well Andrew - like a person walking - pushing through the wind and rain...

  2. Thanks, Mary.

    The once minute, embryonic creature that inspired this poem is now 11 years old, very handsome (even though I'm biased) and a very good guitarist already and is also learning the violin. I wouldn't be without him for quids even when he gets a bit lippy!