A new poem by Oamaru-born poet Nick Ascroft. Superman Halfway up the ascent zigzagging from Royal Terrace to upper Stuart Street carrying four too-heavy grocery bags I begin to understand that I will not make it. My huffing personage – from the fingers, white with the strain, to a face the … Read more
New verse by Wellington writer Nick Ascroft. This Beaver’s Thirst They flip you up your mom and pop and land you on your little feet. Some things they say can make you stop, but then you think, gee whiz that’s neat. And they were flipped up by their nans and caught with gentle hands … Read more
New apocalyptic verse by Wellington writer Nick Ascroft. Gone Mad Health and safety gone mad. Disease and hazard gone mad. ‘Health and safety gone mad’ gone mad. Healthy dislike of Baby Boomers gone mad. Housing prices gone mad. Interest rates threatening to spiral out of control but remaining at a plateau gone mad. Estate agents gone mad. I’m … Read more
New verse by Wellington writer Nick Ascroft. This Poem Is Guaranteed to Awaken a Coma Victim Is someone you love in a coma? A family member perhaps. Perhaps a pet. Perhaps you yourself are in a coma. Perhaps someone is reading this to you in the hopes of awakening you. If … Read more
New verse by Wellington writer Nick Ascroft. [Editorial note: A panel of experts refute the poem is about dumplings.] Dumplings Throw him out like dough on a flour-dusted table, put your wrists into it, your back – hh – sacrum, hips, get a knee up, weight the thick of your femur from … Read more