Friday, 2 September 2011

The Purple Roses of Gore

When I last visited Gore, in summer at the beginning of this year - which actually seems like a long, long time ago now - I took the above photos of the purple roses they have in the Gardens there.

purple roses of Gore

I lived in Gore back when Flemings Oat Mill 
made porridge, not pet food 
and the middle car parks hadn't been replaced 
with hanging flower baskets and a concrete sheep
and the old library 

with its round, brick walls was still the old library 
and not an art gallery.
Gore has always had points of interest;
streets named after rivers,
a hundred-year old ponderosa pine,

an aviary with a kea and a peacock. 
Gore has two theatres and rugby-coach farmers
with heavy fists getting out of dusty utes to punch
in the number of their parking bay.
It has purple roses.

Kay McKenzie Cooke


Tim Jones said...

That poem is so evocative of Gore, Kay. I like the way a sense of menace rises to the surface, and then falls away, in the last stanza. Thanks for posting it!

Kay Cooke said...

Tim - Thank you for the feedback - it's like water to a thirsty soul!! :) Yes, I think I wanted to get across some sort of 'perceived' menace to get back at negative media reports about Gore ... they were particularly mean about Gore about ten years ago and I believe there is a remaining legacy in the minds of NZ'ers re the place (NZ'ers who don't know Gore - like you and I do; it's good points, it's bad points; just like any NZ town really!)

Clocking Out

 I have been neglecting this blog for some months. I think perhaps I should face facts and accept that it is indeed time to retire this blog...