Magical Mystical Pureora Forest Park – and Elections
POETRY: OF THE PEOPLE, BY THE PEOPLE, FOR THE PEOPLE
Tony Chad, the editor of the Valley Micropress, the monthly broadsheet that publishes our local poets, issued a challenge in the last issue; with the elections coming up, we need to ask serious questions, he says, about who we want to receive excessive salaries for ‘representing us’ and how good a job we think current Members of Parliament are doing. Maybe this year we need more political poems in the Valley Micropress, he suggested.
That’s all very well, I thought but not my cup of tea. A week later I had the good fortune and a bit of time, to be driving past one of New Zealand’s iconic subtropical forests, one that contains swathes of ancient trees, up to eight hundred years old. Thirty years ago, activists chained themselves to the trees, high in the canopy to prevent them from being milled. Their actions enable us to see the mystery and the majesty of Nature and listen to the forest songs today.
Inside the park, suddenly I was confronted with a sight that shouldn’t be seen in Pureora and it inspired – yes, my first attempt at a political poem.
engineering principles in place to keep them aloft. It can make you dizzy watching. Now – the poem.