Thank You Mother Earth

for reminding us

that we are based

on vibrant living matter.

For causing us

to leap and dance

and also dancing with us.

Often we have curled

into your body

sucking on your milk

pinching you with fingers nails and toes.

And when the blanket shifted

as you stretched

we perched upon your knees

or grabbed your hair.

But then when your stiff limbs


we slithered in your tears

and lost hold.

Thank you Mother Earth

for teaching us resilience

and fragility.

Did you feel the pain of it?

We do.

Christchurch 22.O2.2011

Today seemed a good day to come back after a long break. I have been off the page for a while all sorts of things and then an accident which gave me an enforced break. All on the mend now thanks to all the wonderful care and help I received. Felt very sad reliving this event today…sad for the people who were lost most of all and their loved ones; sad for the problems people have had since getting houses repaired etc. We are so vulnerable living here on Mother Earth, Papatūānuku, as we call her in Aotearoa New Zealand. We are all so dependent on nature and nature is all powerful. We tend to forget that. I personally am in awe of the power of nature, and also grateful to be a survivor of such an unforgettable event,which is why I wrote the above as a thank you poem, because mostly the natural world puts up with a great deal from us humans.  And meanwhile although I no longer live in Christchurch this beautiful city and its people are in my heart and thoughts today.






The Slack Tide – a poem for 2021 by Helen McKinlay

Walking on the beach

I heard a sudden silence

as if the universe had stopped.

The water waveless now

and calm.

And in that time

the world and I became as one

and peace and clarity abounded.

I hold this image close now.

It reminds me that in life

when the tide keeps crashing in

and my brain and body fight

for a pathway through the flotsam

I too, can create a slack tide

within the quiet breath of stillness.


In mid January 2016 I posted a piece about slack tides. I hadn’t written the poem then. I wrote that today. It seemed like a good image to hold to in this coming new year. Sometimes the overwhelm is too much isn’t it? And it seems like we are powerless but we do have the power to take a few moments to stop and breathe. It’s hard to do that of course, when one is feeling overloaded. So as we all enter 2021, I wish everyone hope, peace, wellness. Be kind to yourselves …and kind to each other.

My original inspiration for the poem and more about slack tides.

Was walking with a friend at the beach. We discussed the tide…you know the sort of thing. ‘I think it’s still coming in….but look see here’ and the other replies ‘Well it’s right up to the bank over there. We should change direction.’ And so on etc. It was difficult to tell that morning and we did change direction not wanting to have to climb over high rocks to  get back if we got stuck. Instead we walked around to where the sea was filling up the estuary. The water was fairly calm but there must have been a sound of lapping, for suddenly all was silent.

It was like the world stopped so immense was the silence. Reverentially we held our breaths for a short time. And just as quickly as the sound had stopped it began again as the tide began its inexorable outward journey. And the waves did their thing where they unroll like an escaped paper towel along the sand’s length.

Apparently this pause is known as a slack tide. Wikipedia describes it thus, ‘Slack water, which used to be known as ‘the stand of the tide‘, is a short period in a body of tidal water when the water is completely unstressed, and there is  no movement either way in the tidal stream. This occurs before the direction of the tidal stream reverses.

Rototai Inlet

If you are interested in tides and their whys and wherefores you can check out this site here. The photo on the left is the nearest I can get to one of a slack tide. But it’s where I was the day I experienced the above. Motupipi Inlet, Rototai Beach, Aotearoa New Zealand. Blessings and aroha for 2021 to all my friends and followers.


Enlightenment is like the moon – Dogen

Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water.
The moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken.
Although its light is wide and great,
The moon is reflected even in a puddle an inch wide.
The whole moon and the entire sky
Are reflected in one dewdrop on the grass.

– Dogen 1200-1253

Dogen was a Japanese Zen master. You can read more about him here

Greetings to you all. There is a world of meaning in this short verse.

I hope those of you around the world in lockdown can either go outside, or look out of your window and see the moon. And  for all of you, I wish that you stay well, be safe, and be happy. Arohanui from Aotearoa New Zealand. May we not become complacent.

Afro American jazz poetry: The Weary Blues

It’s seven years since I first posted this poem in relation to a discussion on rhythm. Today I am reposting it as a thank you and a tribute to the African Americans for the wonderful heritage they have given us all. It feels like an appropriate time to do this.

So many names come to my mind ….from singers such as Paul Robeson (watch this live clip of Old Man River here) and  Billy Holiday, to poets such as Maya Angelou and Langston Hughes.  There are so many!

If you want to get with the feel of the blues try listening to this you tube clip first or as you read the poem below.

The Weary Blues by Langston Hughes

Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
He did a lazy sway…
He did a lazy sway…
To the tune o’ those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man’s soul.
O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan—
“Ain’t got nobody in all this world,
Ain’t got nobody but ma self.
I’s gwine to quit ma frownin’
And put ma troubles on the shelf.”

Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more—
“I got the Weary Blues
And I can’t be satisfied.
Got the Weary Blues
And can’t be satisfied—
I ain’t happy no mo’
And I wish that I had died.”
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that’s dead.

1936 photo by Carl van VechtenJames Mercer Langston Hughes (February 1, 1902 – May 22, 1967) was an African/American poet, social activist, novelist, playwright, and columnist. He was one of the earliest innovators of the then-new literary art form jazz poetry.  For a much extended biography see here.  The Weary Blues is one of only a small number of Langston Hugh’s poems available in the public domain.To hear Langston himself reading The Weary Blues click here.


Tuesday Poem-Lake Isle of Innisfree-WB Yeats

Was checking back to see what I posted eight years ago in August 2012 and found this poem with its wonderfully peaceful images. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

To hear the author himself click on the video below. I left it until last as it is  not  good quality and I wanted you to get a better idea of the words before you hear it but it is marvellous to hear Yeat’s own  lilting Irish voice.

The following note on this poem is courtesy of Wikipedia.

“When Yeats was a child, his father had read to him from Walden by Henry David Thoreau, and Yeats described his inspiration for the poem by saying that while he was a teenager, he wished to imitate Thoreau by living on Innisfree, an uninhabited island in Lough Gill.He suggests that when he was living in London, he would walk down Fleet Street and long for the seclusion of a pastoral setting such as the isle. The sound of water coming from a fountain in a shop window reminded Yeats of the lake that he had previously seen, and it is this inspiration that Yeats credits for the creation of the poem.”

For more information about WB Yeats click here.