Tag Archives: Ben Brown

Poetry Shelf celebrates Matariki

Listen to Ariana Tikao read ‘Star link’

as our dead rise
heading for the stars
what if they get snagged
on a satellite

will they be caught
forever in a rotating
purgatory-like state
as if stuck on a glaring

disco-blaring merry-go-round
that no-one can get off
what if they land on the
celestial star-link waka –

this is a genuine concern

i imagine a static-y
incoming msg from my
mum trying to give
me her beauty tips

but they’d come in
90 mins apart fits
& starts    ////// don’t    
//////  for     /////     get

your //////         lip /////
//////     stick /////
and //// re/////    member
lux//// soap  ///// ponds

dry ///// skin ////
cream /////     after
///// rins     ////   ing
with /////  cold ///// water

i think i’d prefer
‘te huka mate’
were offline most
of the time

Ariana Tikao

Ask the wind why it howls
Ask the storm cloud why it thunders
Ask the Living Earthly Things why do they
seek shelter from the lashing rains

Little Brother he will answer
‘Kua riri au ki ōku tuākana!’
I am angry with my brothers

You know how brothers are 
Sometimes they fight
like only brothers fight
With terrible ferocity

Ask Little Brother
‘He aha koe i riri ai?’
Why are you angry?

Little Brother he will answer
‘Kua hīanga rātou i tō mātou matua
Kua hiki atu ki te pōuri kei runga’
They have betrayed our father
lifting him to the gloomy darkness above

So Little Brother rages
even as his mother weeps
and all his brothers fall before him
All except one

Ben Brown 2025

 

Set in the blackness of space
         your glare is a whisper,
a glimmer, a sliver, your gleam
a loosened feather of flame,

your light a phantasmagorical ghost
to haunt our fire-eating solar system
         through light years
that in earthly time measures

four and a half centuries
before your light and fire
finally makes land
as a pre-dawn solitaire

diamond nestled bright
in a cushion of dark velvet
         sky above my door,
your gleam as factual

as science, or time
and far too real for myth
or song alone. Puaka, you are family,

each winter rising again early
         in our southern sky
to blaze blue,
singular, easy to locate
and kind enough to draw near

as we eat or pray or sing,
your appearance so vast, your light
so ancient, yet somehow, new
and near and small
        enough to fit my eye.

 

Kay McKenzie Cooke

NOTE: Puaka (Puanga, sometimes Poaka) Rigel, is the star southern Māori iwi and hapū look to as a harbinger for the Matariki cluster. More information can be found here.

I hear bird bones crack, splinter. I hear offal slosh in a bucket. 

Matariki have seen it all before — my star companions remain silent. Have they gone mad?

Yes, mad as a meat axe. 

I hear gunshots at the growing wall,
I hear laughter at cocktail hour
out of mouths as wide as mako shark. 

The bleached face of Sirius gives no clue, all are catching a ferry to the Isle of the Blessed. 

My ageless self, trapped in a maimai — who knows how temporary? 

It seems I am lasting forever, as long as stories repeat. 

I blush and quiver to see myself
related to this pale imitation of the gods.

Reihana Robinson
from Auē Rona, Steele Roberts, 2012

The poets

Ariana Tikao is a Kāi Tahu writer, musician, and curator from Ōtautahi. She was a 2023 Ursula Bethell Writer in Residence at Canterbury University, and was awarded as a New Zealand Arts Laureate in 2020. She has co-written two books Mokorua (2022) and Te Rā: The Māori Sail (2023), and her first poetry collection Pepeha Portal will be published by Otago University Press in 2026.

Ben Brown (Ngāti Mahuta, Ngāti Koroki, Ngāti Paoa) writes children’s books, short stories and poetry for children and adults, general non-fiction, freelance articles and memoir. In 2006 he won Best Picture Book with artist/illustrator Helen Taylor in the NZ Post Children’s Book Awards with their book A Booming in the Night. His poetry has been published in various anthologies here and around the world and Radio NZ and The Radio Network have also recorded him. In 2011 he was the Maori Writer in Residence at the Michael King Writers Centre in Devonport Auckland. His poetry collection Between the kindling and the blaze was shortlisted in the 2014 Nga Kupu Ora Aotearoa Maori Book Awards. In 2021 he was appointed inaugural Te Awhi Rito New Zealand Children’s Reading Ambassador. He was the Te Kaipukahu University of Waikato Writer in Residence in 2024. He is also a father of two, which he considers his best work to date.

Kay McKenzie Cooke (Kāti Māmoe, Kāi Tahu) lives and writes in Ōtepoti. She is the author of four poetry collections. Her first poetry collection Feeding The Dogs won the Jessie McKay prize in 2003.

Reihana Robinson’s latest poetry volume BE THE RISING HUMAN is available from Carson’s Bookshop in Thames, Paradox Books in Devonport and on Amazon and KDP.

Poetry Shelf Monday poem: Ben Brown’s ‘Writing on the Moon’

Writing on the Moon

Writing on the moon

with a feather dipped

in light

The sickle of

tomorrow’s sun

reflecting possibilities

The shadow of

the world defines

unlimited imagining

Ben Brown (2020)

Ben Brown (Ngāti Mahuta, Ngāti Koroki, Ngāti Paoa) was born 1962 in Motueka, which is further away from him now than he cares to think about. He has been writing all his life for his own enjoyment and published his first children’s book in 1991. He is an award winning author who writes for children and adults across all genres, including poetry, which he also enjoys performing. Generally, if pressed, he will have something to say about anything. In May 2021 he was made the inaugural NZ Reading Ambassador for Children – Te Awhi Rito. He is also a father of two, which he considers his best work to date. He lives in Lyttelton above a pie shop across the road from the sea.

Māori poets celebrate Matariki

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An exciting group of Māori poets – several of the country’s leading poets and some emerging writers – will come together to celebrate Matariki with readings and korero at a free event on Saturday June 28.

Māori Poets Celebrate Matariki features Ben Brown from Lyttelton, Apirana Taylor from Kapiti, with Auckland’s own Robert Sullivan, and social historian, novelist and poet, Kelly Ana Morey, from Mangawhai. It also features writer Te Awhina Arahanga, publisher and poet Kiri Piahana-Wong, and an emerging young poet Amber Esau.

This is a rare opportunity to hear some of the leading Māori poets in Aotearoa today, together with the next generation of talented young writers. It is a free event, part of the 2014 Matariki Festival, supported by Auckland Council and the Michael King Writers’ Centre.

Where:  Depot Artspace, 28 Clarence St, Devonport, Auckland
When:   Saturday, June 28, 2014, 4 pm
Free

Ben Brown’s The Kindling and the Blaze is poetry from the heart

Between-the-Kindling-Front-Cover-web-res-213x300   Between-the-Kindling-Front-Cover-web-res-213x300

Ben Brown Between the Kindling and the Blaze (Anahera Press, 2013)

Ben Brown (Ngāti Paoa, Ngāti Mahuata) is an award-winning writer, performer and children’s author currently living in Lyttelton. His debut poetry collection, Between the Kindling and the Blaze, was completed during his residency at the Michel King Writers’ Centre in Devonport. He has previously released a CD of poetry entitled Dogtown (2010).

With scant collections by Māori writers making an appearance in New Zealand’s poetry scene, this book is an important arrival. Ben declares from the outset that these poems are ‘reflections on the concept of mana.’ A preface story introduces humans (a man) to the vastness and the smallness of the world: mountain, rock, grain of sand, tree. It speaks of how a human can furnish a shelter from sand, rock and wood, and how it can be built with both love and dignity. In this way, a family shelter becomes ‘a place of mana.’

The book, fittingly, is dedicated to whānau.

And so the poems, also a shelter for friends, family, whānau, are miniature edifices crafted with dignity and love. These poems become vessels for the poet’s loving kōrero. Mana is there between the kindling and the blaze, between an idea and and an experience. Mana is in the wisdom of the grandfather, but it is in a host of surprising things. Through this poetic contemplation, you are taken from moko to hui, from the ‘concrete cold of a city’ to Presidential dreamings, from James K Baxter to Hone Tuwhare. The poems become reattached to the world–to values and to customs.

Ben centres a lot of the poems on the page (Western poets have a habit of hugging the left-hand margin). It becomes a different way of reading with the billowing, silent beats on either side of the poems. It accentuates the music of the shortened lines that swell and contract like the belly of a vessel (that place for kōrero that comes from the heart, but that holds itself open to politics).

Listening to a selection of the poems on the CD, heightens the music and the sense of contemplation. I particularly loved ‘Taniwha’ (a subtle evocation of the force that ‘is there for all to see’), the lyrical delights of ‘The heron is God,’ the cheeky warm tribute to Hone Tuwhare in ‘Chur bro,’ the twists and turns of ‘I am the Māori Jesus’ as it jams with the Baxter original. Like Hone, Ben mixes up his language, mixes up the voices, the tone of the lines.

The book, like a good LP, demands to be replayed.

Anahera Press page

New Zealand Book Council page

Storylines page

Random House page

Interview with NZ Children’s Authors, Christchurch Public Library