Poetry Shelf Playing Favourites: Jackson McCarthy

Leave a reply

Moon

Maya’s gazpacho turned out grey —
my new maroon shirt had stolen
all the red in the house.

I wore that shirt daily
like a rare bird or fish
wears its rarity. Soon I saw you,

first by fingers, then the shapes
of your hands perfecting moon.
You were standing red

in the middle of the street,
the rarest thing I ever saw — the truck
had swerved to kiss you.

Wairua, I should kiss you too — twice, once
for each direction you’re facing.

Jackson McCarthy
from Portrait (Auckland University Press, 2026)

Oh, I love the colour blue, but I wanted to bring some red into the poetry, especially toward the end of my book, which is where this poem appears. I think the lightly surreal touch has a Maia Armistead quality about it, and I’m quite pleased with how the lines break and turn over the thoughts they think. It’s all quietly surprising, as most things in the night are. Kissing appears lots in my poetry as it does in my life. It’s just such a great thing to do, nothing psychological about it. Like, I don’t think kissing expresses a desire to consume or to master the beloved or whatever. Kissing expresses its own duration, so as to draw itself nearer and nearer to somebody else’s mystery, which I think is very beautiful and in some sense quite like poetry. And as for the facing in two directions, there in the last two lines — I hope it has resonance with another night scene from earlier in the book, “Night train”. In that poem, one way is the past, and the other way (the future, extrapolated to its extreme) is death. Not sure what it all means, but my preoccupation is with nothing less than love, death, and time, of course. Where are you headed and where have you been? And what should we do with the present?

“Moon” was first published in my book Portrait; thank you to my publisher, Auckland University Press.

Jackson McCarthy is a poet based in Te-Whanganui-a-Tara Wellington. He is of Lebanese, Māori, and Pākehā descent. His poetry has been published widely in Aotearoa literary journals, including Landfall Tauraka, Ōrongohau | Best New Zealand Poems, The Spinoff, Starling, and Sweet Mammalian. Portrait (Auckland University Press, 2026) is his first book.

Poetry Shelf noticeboard: Toitū te Kupu – The Power of Poetry

Leave a reply

Toitū te Kupu: The Power of Poetry

Wednesday, November 18, 2026, 6:00pm–8:00pm

Tūranga Library

Experience the power of the spoken and written word with performances by rakatahi poets, along with Ōtautahi-based kaituhi Isla Huia, and one of our country’s most celebrated poets and the Aotearoa New Zealand Poet Laureate Robert Sullivan. Sullivan will share poems from his Ockham shortlisted Hopurangi – Songcatcher and other toikupu from his illustrious career. Huia’s debut collection. Huia’s Talia was also shortlisted for the Ockham awards, and she will be sharing work from her recently published second collection Āta. We will also hear from the Ōtautahi Youth Poetry Slam winners for 2026 Ngā Kōhine o Te Kupu from Te Kura Whakapūmau i te Reo Tūturu ki Waitaha.

This event is in association with the Whaiao Exhibition, and is hosted by local poet Ariana Tikao who works in the Māori Services Team, Ngā Ratonga Māori at Christchurch City Libraries.

Robert Sullivan (Ngāpuhi Nui Tonu, Kāi Tahu Whānui) is the 14th Aotearoa New Zealand Poet Laureate. Among his sixteen books are the bestselling Star Waka, Weaving Earth and Sky and Hopurangi Songcatcher. He has won awards for his poetry, editing, and writing for children. His year 6 teacher at Onehunga Primary School, Mrs Naire, first inspired him to write poetry, which was a cloud poem. He lives in Ōamaru on ancestral whenua, the beautiful coasts of Te Tai o Āraiteuru. See Robert’s books here.

Isla Huia (Te Āti Haunui a-Pāpārangi, Uenuku) is a kaituhi based in Ōtautahi. Her debut collection of poetry, Talia, was released in May 2023 by Dead Bird Books, and was shortlisted for the Mary and Peter Biggs Award for Poetry at the Ockham New Zealand Book Awards. She has been published in journals and anthologies across Aotearoa including Ōrongohau Best New Zealand Poems, Takahē, Catalyst and Short | Poto. Huia is the current recipient of a Te Tumu Toi Arts Foundation Springboard Award, under the mentorship of inaugural Commonwealth Poet Laureate Selina Tusitala Marsh.

Ngā Kōhine o Te Kupu

He reo rangatira, he reo māia, he reo kōhine! Ko Ngā Kōhine o Te Kupu e tū whakahīhī ana i roto i tō rātou reo, tō rātou ahurea me tō rātou tuakiri. Ngā Kōhine o Te Kupu is a talented group of young wāhine from Te Kura Whakapūmau i te Reo Tūturu ki Waitaha, who have made their mark in the world of slam poetry through their powerful voices, creativity and passion for storytelling. Grounded in the values of Te Aho Matua, these kōhine proudly represent their kura, their whānau and their culture. Their journey through the slam poetry competition to the finals is a testament to their courage, dedication and ability to captivate audiences through the spoken word.

Ariana Tikao (Kāi Tahu) is a writer, poet, singer, composer, taonga puoro practitioner and New Zealand Arts Laureate. Her arts practice explores themes relating to her Kāi Tahu identity and mana wahine. Her first book Mokorua: Ngā Kōrero mō tōku moko kauae – My story of moko kauae was published in 2022, and her first poetry collection Pepeha Portal was published through Otago University Press in 2026.

Poetry Shelf remembers Parihaka Day: Tangi, Parihaka by Gregory O’Brien

Leave a reply 
Tangi, Parihaka
for Te Miringa Hohaia

Everywhere a voice
is heard—
            not this voice, but

the hollow back-bone
of a dog, or a volcano
breathing inwards.

Somewhere a sprig,
stem or root, a wreath
          worn in the hair
and the river
which is only as deep
          as the sky

and the coiled eel
its foundation stone.

Elsewhere a voice
not this one
         a beaten drum
in a flax basket—the heart
in its retiring place.

Around the head of each
an encircling greenness—
          karaka, karakia, these
expertly woven branches
          and leaves
that cannot hold him 
               to us

         but neither will they
         let him go.

Gregory O’Brien
from Beauties of the Octagonal Pool, Auckland University Press, 2012
(written after attending the tangi of Te Miringa Hohaia at Parihaka)

Gregory O’Brien’s recent books are House and Contents (AUP, 2022) and Don Binney–Flight Path (AUP, 2023). Recent activities have been focussed on the wider Pacific region (he is currently working on a book of poetry and art with John Pule) and Central Otago. In 2024 Gregory was made an Honorary Geographer by the New Zealand Geographic Society. This month Gregory’s new book with poet artist John Puhiatau Pule, This Must Be the Island — Liga Hanai e MotuOceanic conversations, will be published by Massey University Press.

Poetry Shelf Playing Favourites: Harry Ricketts

Leave a reply

The Necessity of Failure

Why this obsession with success,
which gives so brief a glow?
Fading already: won; done it;

past. Afterwards, what then? What next?
With failure, there’s so much
more to savour, so much more to feel.

Like a loose tooth, you can jiggle
it any time you like;
the true friend you can never brush off.

Failing is like having children:
you find out stuff about yourself
you’d never known nor dared to guess.

And think of the variety.
There are so many ways
to fail. Not just the smart disasters

like going bust or off your head,
betraying those you love
or knowingly blowing your talent –

only a few of us can be
that chic. Don’t be choosey.
Any flop will reward you with guilt,

remorse, embarrassment and shame,
whose every nuance
you can endlessly replay, retaste.

Even quite a tiny failure
can last you a lifetime:
that thing you said, that moment you missed,

will twist in time until you see
how it led to all that
and all of this. Some revelation.

So don’t begrudge your blunders,
screw-ups, A minor blues.
Nothing’s wasted; failure makes sense.

Harry Ricketts
from Your Secret Life (HeadworX, 2005)

Keats’s ‘To Autumn’, Elizabeth Bishop’s ‘One Art’, Carol Ann Duffy’s ‘Eurydice’, Bill Manhire’s ‘My Sunshine’: playing favourites with other poets’ poems is much easier than with one’s own. I’ve gone for ‘The Necessity of Failure’ (Pemmican Press, 2001). This was written in 2000 as a reaction to the way we were all being exhorted to say how successful we were, and I thought but what about our failures? That’s the one subject we’re all experts in. We’ve slid much further down the self-adulation PR track since then; which perhaps explains why this half-comic poem still seems to strike a chord in readings.

Harry Ricketts

Harry Ricketts has published 35 books, most recently his thirteenth collection of poems, Bonfires on the Ice (Te Herenga Waka Press, 2025). He is working on volume 2 of his memoirs. He is an Emeritus Professor at Te Herenga Waka Victoria University of Wellington, where he continues to teach a course in creative nonfiction at the Institute of Modern Letters. He likes coffee, cafés and cricket.

Poetry Shelf Playing Favourites: Sue Fitchett

Leave a reply

& verily the bishop saw an absence
(response to Bishop Vercoe’s statement of ‘looking forward to a world without gays’)

I take my science
leaf through
memory
will-o’-the-wisp moments
can be caught
embedded
deep into the brain
a place where even
torture
cannot hook
yank you out
leave absence

I take your name
repeat over & over
each syllable
someone has scored
a name into the wooden seat
beside my bus stop
this is how my brain will look
soft folds clasp
a bright tattoo

I take the colour of your eyes
condition myself to be alert
spot an exact match
in variegated green leaves
a grey sea wash
the brown earth I turn over
to make home for a sapling
this Arbor day

I take your laugh
in which ear will I hide this joy
harmonies to play amoroso
on morning ferries
shield against some of the din
scudding through our city

& to back all this up
when we stand in supermarket aisles
rice  flour  bread in our basket
say good-bye at airports
between one heart beat & the next
I will reach for you
with both hands
print a public kiss
on your lips

a reading
so transpicuous
luminous
if they turn us into salt
we will shine

& shine

Sue Fitchett
from Magazine, ed. Raewyn Alexander 2004

There are times when certain poems I‘ve written speak to me afresh.   While they may not be an all-time favourite they reverberate again in consciousness, align with my mood or the environment I find myself in personally or within the wider world.  I’ve become increasingly aware of the growing book bans happening in supposedly liberal western democracies, for example, thousands more this year in the US.   Many are LGBTQR+ titles or content.  Twenty something years ago a leading NZ Bishop said publicly he was ‘looking forward to a world without gays’.  I wrote a poetic response.  It’s with fierce sadness I stumbled again on this poem and now it’s become a bit of an ear-worm as I scan global new items, hear local political party ‘dog whistles’.
Sue

Sue Fitchett is a conservationist, volunteer fire fighter & Waiheke Islander.  Authored Palaver lava queen (AUP: 2004), On the Wing (Steele Roberts: 2014) and Between (The Cuba Press 2025). Co-author or editor of several poetry books & anthologies.  Work has appeared in various publications in Aotearoa/New Zealand & overseas & exhibited in art shows. Louis Johnson Bursar 2001-2002.

Poetry Shelf. noticeboard: Liz Mortonius at Poetry Live

Leave a reply

Liz Mortonius at Poetry Live.

Elizabeth Morton is a poet, yarn teller, and researcher of the noggin. Her writing has been published in the likes of Landfall, Takahē, Poetry Aotearoa, and also in overseas journals such as the Moth Magazine, Rattle, Narrative Magazine and Smokelong Quarterly. She is always the bridesmaid, never the bride, as is evidenced by twice placing second in the Sunday Star Times Short Story Competition and also second in the Sargeson Prize. She has four poetry collections, the latest being Incident Report (Otago University Press, 2026). She likes humming David Bowie hits while walking the streets.