'I'm always looking for the Hows and the Whys and the Whats,' said Muskrat, 'That is why I speak as I do. You've heard of Muskrat's Much-in-Little, of course?'
'No,' said the child. 'What is it?'
- The Mouse and his Child. Russell Hoban.

Go here to find out more.

Tuesday, 5 May 2009


I Flew Away to England.
(A poem composed under the influence of jet-lag at 5 am on the first morning)

I flew away to England
And heard the pigeons coo,
Soft dawn in the morning,
Soft church-flint blue.

We picked the sweet tomatoes,
Drank sweet tea,
And sweet Oliver
Smiled at me.

I flew away to England,
Chestnut, hawthorn, oak.
Tiny windows, graveyards,
Thatch; and light like smoke.

little note: Oliver is my friends' 11 year-old autistic son.


  1. This almost makes me homesick - and I live there!!

  2. Shucks, praise indeed.

  3. I love it. The American poet, Robert Frost, said that writing poetry without rhymes is like playing tennis without a net. (Though perhaps too harsh--I love poetry of all sorts.)

    Yours is lovely, evocative of England though I've only read about it.

  4. Very Nice, Katherine, I especially like the last verse, truly fitting.
    Thanks for sharing.


  5. You should get jetlagged more often Katherine! By the way - I like your choice of accompanying photo - slightly blurred and suitably nondescript - the world flashing by.

  6. Katherine, what a lovely poem! (I'm a pushover for verse even though a lot of people nowadays don't care for it. But when done well, as your is, what a pleasure to read!)

  7. Thank you all. Glances down modestly at feet and shuffles.

    I am absolutely rose-tinted about England (and you know by now how much I love New Zealand!). I am always 'high' for 48 hours after I arrive anywhere in Europe, then slowly come down over the ensuing three months...

  8. Which of course means if I'm away less than three months, I'm grinning all the time! (Get a bit homesick around the three-month mark...)


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