Outside the melting window a forest of memories sang

Sang with the delight of Harpogornis mooreii soaring

The endless blue sky hit the buildings edge dissolving

Into plastic nano-particles and hydrocarbons of cars

At a temperature of one hundred and four the dilated pores

Of the epidermal surface exude a sticky blue serum

The morning was all yellow, yellowish and gooey. We walked into the

Painting swallowing bananas tinged with cinnamon, honey and burnt toast

Footsteps echoed from the hallway,

A caterpillar crawling towards metamorphosis

The floor of polished wax skidded us, slip and fall without

The slightest sense of gravity

A red dart kite attempted lift-off

https://the-otolith.blogspot.com/2018/11/piet-nieuwland.html

Night is only a dress

Wet with the friction of lips

On the river bank in bubbles of breath

Through the harmonicas sinister slow distant ache

Of bit flips and bergy bits, crevasses that vanish

And every day is another day

Where the rhythm tilts away

Over valleys stretched beyond the lucid moon

Intimate water eclipsed with yellow

Cacti buds on crushed feldspar gravels

Geckos luminous as mercury black eagles in solar flow

When suddenly In a confusion over Black Mountain a conflagration

Of shadows, turbulent vermillion and frenzied ashen waters

Spill from the whole vivid sky

Violet castanets echo the slow scent of red eagle laughter

Upon pyramidal sisters

Upon lovers of the pagoda

And carillon bells ring

Over bloodshot Indian hills 

https://issuu.com/mojaverivermedia/docs/mrr-vol4no2-fall-winter2018_v24b

Poetry is not a luxury, it is a necessary part of the creativity of every day.  

Piet Nieuwland has poems and flash fiction appear in numerous print and online journals published in New Zealand, Australia, United States of America, Canada and India.

He is a performance poet, edits Fast Fibres Poetry and lives near Whangarei.

In a previous life he worked as a conservation strategist for Te Papa Atawhai in Aotearoa/New Zealand 

He welcomes email contact at   pietn@outlook.com 

Whispered messages dissolve in rivers of attention and glances

A long sigh exhales through the valley to Kaipara moana  

Molecules of sound emanate from luminous branches

A syntax of yellow leaves on black trees  

Filaments of falling marked by fluid silvery drops

Accurate shapes, incarnate wairua exclamations  

Hallucinations of glamorous echoing veils

Silky clay nostalgias, transgressions of moss  

A ferment of revolution in the invisible temples

Vorticies of evaporation on the spidery skyline  

Lightning on the fuse of your stare  

The moon a flower,

White as a flight of doves 

In the black balance

Of velvet night

http://lunchticket.org/pacific-hypergirls-go-strut/ 2017