Highly Commended in the Published Poets category of the 2017 UNESCO Dunedin City of Literature Robert Burns Poetry Competition

Clamouring slippery burns
enduring stinging rain
My father, a Dutch Lowlander
cursed whoever decided
harsh basic training
in the Scottish Highlands
would serve in protecting
Dutch East Indies’ interests

It made no sense
War seldom does.

Then five hard years later
Fighting harder for housing
with those very same
shamed Colonials pouring
defeated back into Holland.

A much grown man
Restless in a cramped attic
Furious his sent-home savings
hung prettily in his sister’s wardrobe.

Back across the seas
Nieuw Zeeland beckoned.

Arriving in the sleety winter of Fifty-Two
to a cramped cabin at the St Kilda camp
Strict rules overlaid with pursed Presbyterianism
Feeling as though he was back in the army
but grinning still from six-weeks’ romancing
aboard the SS Sibajak
that cosy cabin to themselves
two afternoons a week.

And now watching out for her
beside the big bronze Bard:
Too pragmatic for poetry
Too poor for a red, red rose
but taking my mother’s arm
gently
None the less.