Poetry Shelf pays tribute to Kevin Ireland (1933 – 2023)
By Poetry Shelf - Paula Green | Posted:
Like many other readers and writers in Aotearoa I was saddened by the news of Kevin Ireland's recent passing. To see the outpouring of grief and commentary on social media and in print, reminded me of the width and depth of Kevin's contribution to New Zealand literature. Significant, inspiring, connecting. I want to acknowledge this.
I have eight of Kevin's poetry books on my shelves, but he published at least 27, along with short stories, novels and memoirs. Quentin Wilson Publishing published the third volume of his memoir, A Month at the Back of My Brain, in 2022. He received an honorary doctorate, the Prime Minister's Award for Literary achievement in 2004, and the AW Reed Award for his contribution to New Zealand writing in 2006.
Kevin's poetry reflects the magnetic and insistent pull of writing poems. Writing feels like a necessary part of daily life, and the process of writing, that mysterious and wondrous arrival of words that sing and chime, at times with a cup of tea, at times at a bus stop or in the dark of the night, finds its way into Kevin's books across the decades. This attention to writing keeps me reading each work compulsively.
From his very first collections, such as Educating the Body (Caxton Press, 1967), Kevin wrote with exquisite economy, deft rhythm and rhyme, unafraid of slender poems, longer poems, the unsaid, the contemplated and the anecdotal. I savour the recurring themes of sea, sky, day and night, sleeping not sleeping, tides and foreign cities, but it is the presence of people who elevate his poetry for me, give it heart: his loved ones, his writing mates, his drinking buddies. He dedicated many poems to other writers to whom he was close such as Graeme Lay, Stephen Stratford, Peter Bland. This matters. It matters that Kevin was part of a writing community, supportive, inspirational, vital.
Above all, it was his ability to write breathtaking love poems that has haunted me. He has caught my ear and heart as he wrote of and for the women he loved so deeply. He dedicated his penultimate collection, Shape of the Heart, (Quentin Wilson Publishing, 2020) to people that mattered: his dear wife Janet, Fleur Adcock, Peter Bland, Bernard Brown, Maurice Gee, Vincent O'Sullivan and Karl Stead. He wrote of these friends 'who have challenged, laughed, disputed, enriched and always entertained by turning words and ideas on their heads'.
To have taken my time to anchor within, and then find uplift, as I read the eight poetry collections feels like a private mourning, a personal celebration. Now when I want to speak of what Kevin's poetry does, the words are like slippery eels in the night that skate and slide and feel inadequate. Instead I hold out six poems for you, as a tribute, as a eulogy, as an invitation to choose a poetry collection by Kevin, pick a private nook or cranny, and nestle into your own reading anchors and uplifts.
Kevin's estate and publishers have kindly given me permission to share six of his poems. I have also included the review of Looking out to Sea that I wrote for The SpinOff in 2015.
My thoughts and best wishes are with Kevin's loved ones, his family and writer and reader mates.