Topic: Back To Here
At the top of Ngauranga Gorge is Johnsonville
Here, in my suburb where Mount Kaukau stands proudly over the west side loud whispers and chuckles with a friendly hello echo around this valley Johnsonville’s folk mostly gather, not in gowns or solemn suits, but in relaxed armour and laughter-shields. They celebrate the art of nodding greetings mid-walk, the sacred ritual of a wave with a friendly wink, and the curious talent of knowing nearly everyone’s nick name— where half the cats probably own three neighbours each. Beneath these skies, jokes bounce like mountain goats wild and free— “Keep off my lawn,” means “Come down to the pub, club or cafe for a drink" and everyone knows it. The wind carries stories more reliable than any weather forecast: tales of tripped-over footpaths and heroic rubbish bin chases. A toast to a residents that has died might read: “Cheers to a friend who never missed a party". On a fine day while walking around I see people sitting on benches chatting pulling down invisible walls telling stories with plenty of smiles.” Johnsonville’s shopping mall once the center of the village is now where dissatisfaction lingers as it retail heart dies. Despite the mall there is a celebration stitched in the fabric of cheeky yells and heartfelt hellos. So here’s to this top-of-the-gorge village a place live with humour, where community isn’t just a word—it’s an ongoing punchline.
We have the odd bad egg here in Jville but most people are good.
Here is a poem about leaving here as a young man and then returning years later. I was going to write a song but nothing came to me.
Back to here
I left this valley as a youth with restless, roaming heart
Through lands unknown and skies withdrawn
Anonymity my art
The cities’ throng would wash me out,
A face among the countless many
Yet in that vast and wandering route
My spirit’s longing grew
For places that to me were to be found
I left the hearth at break of dawn
A youth with restless, roaming heart
Through lands unknown and skies withdrawn,
Anonymity my art.
The cities’ throng would wash me out
A face among the countless few,
Yet in that vast and wandering route,
My spirit’s longing grew.
For years I danced ‘neath foreign stars,
With whispers strange and stories spun,
But found no peace within those bars— No place to call my “one.”
Then came a light as clear as spring,
An epiphany so bright and true:
The soil where roots can gently cling— That space was here anew.
With Maree’s hand held firm in mine,
Our laughter blends with winds that stir,
Together weaving love's design— Here’s where my soul will purr.
The road had led me far and wide,
Yet joy sang loud when near my shore— In home’s embrace I now abide;
Adventures?
Need no more! New
In another place I need no more!
