Friday 7 October 2016

2 poems by Helen Tau'au Filisi...

Have been so busy with so much going on that just realised that I haven't published any poetry on my blog since launching my first poetry collection in my last books launch of "Pacific Hibiscus" on our National poetry day in August.

Here are 2 poems that I've selected with books on sale this Saturday at the Mangere Bridge's mini book fair starting at 1 - 3.30 pm. We also each have a slot to read our works or to talk about our writing. I'll see how it goes and will probably read out some poetry including the following which readers are most welcome to review and comment on...


What’$ it like in Your World?

What’$ it like in Your World?
where money $peaks it$ mind
and violence is the friction of
rubbing note$ together

You po$$e$$ magnificent magazine palace$ of
Exqui$itely $culptured lawn$
and coiffured tre$$e$
those $cenic height$ that $pan a panoramic view

As Your $leek wheel$
glide pa$t
i inhale your du$t

Do You see me?

in my cardboard box?

(c) Helen Tau'au Filisi 2016


Unconditional Love
He leaves the porch light on
every night waiting, hoping – forgiving.
She ran away, looking for brighter city lights.
He is hopeful and awaits her journeys end.

*     *     *

An open grenade lands in a campsite
about to explode – others duck for cover.
He dives on it, braced to take the impact
and receives a medal in risking his life for others.

*     *     *

He lies next to her, she doesn’t recognize him.
He squeezes her wrinkled hand reassuringly.
“In sickness and in health,” he whispers and sleeps.
Her bewildered face softens with a tear.

*     *     *

A fire has disfigured her.
“I do,” he says and slips a ring on her thumb. No digits.
She smiles. “I do too.”
He steadies her and kisses where lips once were.

*     *     *

She feels the impact of the bullet.
Dying in the line of duty,
piercing what was meant for her partner.
He cradles her with an angry cry, wishing he could take her place.

*     *     *

He kisses the bald head where silken hair once grew.
“You are more beautiful now than ever before.”
She forgets the treatment and brings his hand to her wet cheek.
“And so are you my love, and so are you.”

*     *     *

She visits him incarcerated, fortnight Wednesdays.
A glass panel separates them. They sit.
“I am so sorry mum.” His eyes plead in silence.
“You are still my son,” she replies with a gentle smile.

*     *     *


She almost lost her life with the last one.
“Don’t abort – no matter what!” She tells him.
Her life hangs in the balance, as his love for their baby to be.
She takes his hand to feel the tiny kicks in her belly.

*     *     *

“I’ll never do it again,” he pleads.
She’s heard it so many times before.
She takes the kids and calls for help.
He gets help and he never does it again.

*     *     *
(c) Helen Tau'au Filisi 2016

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