Keith St Cartmail’s 1985 NZ cricket poem

Keith St Cartmail (1930-1997) is a poet I don’t know much about. I was recently looking at his books in the Poetry Archive of NZ Aotearoa collection and found a cricket poem of interest.

The biographical note on the back of his book Yoshitoshi in Harlem states: “Robert Keith St Cartmail was born in England, scion of an oppressed working class family. After witnessing further social deprivation in Sicily, where he taught English, he came to the South Seas in search of the Promised Land and here he now lives with his wife and family. His passions include tribal art and learning to see.”

Yoshitoshi in Harlem was his fourth book of poetry in 1985. He also published on religion and philosophy, drama and history. His collected poems The World in Alphabetical Order appeared in 1993 from Brick Row. Craig Potton and the University of Hawaii Press published his Art of Tonga in 1997 the year that he died. “Authoritative and accessible, The Art of Tonga is lavishly illustrated with superb and important examples of Tongan art from throughout its history. It is essential reading for anyone with an interest in the magnificent cultures of Oceania.”

His poem on cricket describes his working class background in England where ‘my father carried coal’ and he notes the privileged class history of cricket in England. I will include the poem in the Tingling Catch archive.

KEITH ST CARTMAIL

Cricket

In England it’s not cricket
To take unfair advantage
To be unsporting
Dear boy

That’s why my father carried coal
To stoke the mill
My mother worked at twelve in
Why people
Dying before their time
Gave up their lives
For Albion Queen and country
The sporting thing to do
Dear boy

For cricket
Is not just bat and ball
It’s privilege and class
And where you were born
That kind of thing
Dear boy

No wonder then
I was pleased
The Aussies got the ashes back
And England lost

Poem © Keith St Cartmail

Ivy Marks Trembath’s NZ cricket poem

Ivy Marks Trembath (1896-1987) was a Tauranga poet. She was born in London as Ivy Marks and came to New Zealand from England in the 1960s with her husband D'Arcy Burral Trembath and became a widower. She remarried late in life. Her death name was Ivy Augusta Wilson.

During World War II she was a Sergeant at the ATS (Authority Territorial Service) Reception Centre in England and her poetry appeared in the Women’s Voluntary Services Bulletin.

A section of her poetry was written about London in her sole New Zealand collection Poems for You self published in 1984 in Tauranga. Her work was broadcast by the BBC and Radio New Zealand. She was a member of the New Zealand Women Writers’ Society and wrote short fiction and radio plays. In 1926 she had her first book of poetry Bells in the Wind published in New York. She was published in various places in England, the US and New Zealand. In New Zealand her poems were published in The Tablet, the Christchurch Star and New Zealand Holiday.

Ivy began writing poetry at age 12 and was the eldest child of the chief librarian of the famous Mudie’s Select Library. Her poetry mentor from her school years was Dr Campbell Morgan, former minister of Westminster Chapel, London, a pastor, preacher and Biblical teacher. Ivy’s poetry was written in traditional rhyme and rhythm and is classic poetry.

I found a cricket poem in her collection that I will add to the Tingling Catch archive.

IVY MARKS TREMBATH

The Fig Tree

The fig tree in St. James Park
Was old when I was small
And played beneath its leafy boughs
With little bat and ball,
And looked above with longing eye
To see the tempting fruit on high.

The fig tree in St. James Park
Still bends its laden bough
Beside the lake and little bridge
As luring then as now;
And as I stand, no longer young,
Beneath the hanging fruit
A childish hand outstretches, swift
To snatch the tempting loot.
And, suddenly, beneath the tree
I see the little ghost of me.

Poem © Ivy Marks Trembath

James Brown’s 2024 NZ cricket poem

James Brown contributed two poems to A Tingling Catch. His poem ‘The Outfield’ was included in the new cricket poetry anthology Catching the Light in England this year.

Brown has published nine collections of his poetry along with a Selected Poems and has been a prominent poet of my generation in New Zealand. His latest book is a book of prose poems released earlier this year.

His 2024 book Slim Volume is based on the idea of the traditional slim volume that poetry has been produced in over the years. While Brown’s book is a bit bigger than the Faber slim volumes I grew up with, I like the note on the back cover: “A slim volume of verse, like a bicycle, offers us fresh and joyful and sometimes troubling ways of seeing the world.” His own poetry is also not done in the traditional manner of English verse. Brown is one of the more innovative of our contemporary poets and his books are always a rewarding read. The book includes novel pauses in the book instead of section breaks in traditional volumes of verse. A critic once said of Brown’s work: “Poetry, but it doesn’t suck.” Brown’s books are well worth seeking out at bookshops and libraries.

One of his poems in Slim Volume is cricket-related and I will include it in the Tingling Catch archive.

JAMES BROWN

Bad Light

It’s very gloomy.
If this were a cricket match,
the light meter would come out,
the umpires would confer, then both teams
would leave the field due to bad light
because it’s unsafe and unfair
if batsmen and fielders are unable to
pick       out        the       red        ball.
It’s an uncertain, contentious time
when people’s rods and cones
dispute colour and intensity
and the boy on the red bicycle disappears
while the driver eager to get home
believes he has nothing before him
but open road.

Poem © James Brown

James Brown’s Slim Volume is available from Te Herenga Waka University Press: Slim Volume – Te Herenga Waka University Press

Nicola Easthope's 2018 twittering catch poem

Nicola Easthope is a Wellington poet who has published three books of her poetry and published her poetry in anthologies and journals. She was a contributor to A Tingling Catch, and also appears in Manifesto Aotearoa: 101 Political Poems.

Her poem ‘How does your sun?’ was selected for the new anthology Catching the Light in England this year.

Some years ago at a reading in Kapiti she told me she had written an experimental poem that took its lead from a review in the Waikato Times of A Tingling Catch. It's cricket related so I thought I would include it in the Tinging Catch archive as a response to the anthology. The poem appears in her second book published by The Cuba Press in 2018. 

Easthope writes: “A found poem, thanks to Google alerts and the anthology of New Zealand cricket poems, A Tingling Catch. I have lifted the tweets verbatim. The title also riffs off a Carl Sagan quote: ‘Our feeblest contemplations of the Cosmos stir us — there is a tingling in the spine, a catch in the voice, a faint sensation of a distant memory, as if we were falling from a great height. We know we are approaching the greatest of mysteries.’

NICOLA EASTHOPE

A twittering catch

timjonesbooks‎ A cool review for #cricket #poetry anthology “A Tingling Catch” in the Waikato Times Vin_diPietro‎ @marie_terese *trying to catch my breath, body tingling as I press my forehead against you I love you shaking my head in amazement* so much pawsitivlycorky‎ Having to use razor blades at work gives me a tingling sensation in my arms and a hurting in my heart that makes my throat catch. wildfeather‎ I really need to catch up on @Wendell_Howe. Seems he’s been involved in a 19^th Century antiquarian excavation! My archaeology sense is tingling. NJrugger45‎ Finished wringing socks dry. Have cold. At 5^th & Spring Garden, my mother’s “you’ll catch your death of pneumonia” senses are tingling. lisasalas‎ can smell the weekend… tingling with anticipation... hoping to catch the next sleep wave soon or else I’ll be writing more junk online... NarcissaBlack‎ @MissAuroraSin: Our eyes catch and suddenly my cheeks stain with a blush, body tingling and I feel like when we first started dating. Idle_Threat‎: Making my escape. You’ll never catch… um.. Wait.. Chipotlé senses tingling… this could be a trap, but I’ll just have to take that chance. MrLiqhtSkinnedd‎ RT @HaZeLeYeSMaMa: Ok this burning/tingling sensation; its ANNOYING ! It makes me catch an attitude - Yeast Infection. SullivanShadow‎ @To_Be_Empathic: He’s got me tingling all over. I pull back to catch my breath. We should stop. Before I start pulling off your clothes. seasidedolly‎ @d_h_morgan: WOOP WOOP Fantastic how’s them lovely bones holding up. Bet you’re feet are tingling, Water at last. Slowly slowly catch the Monkey X. onefiftysevenpm‎ @angelamachado @ktcronier: my ‘parents are going to say no’ senses are tingling. If it is definitely a no, catch you on the next tour. roastrestaurant‎: Catch of the day - Rainbow trout fillets with cauliflower, brown shrimps and mace butter... taste buds are tingling! copybychris‎ Dreamed I was chasing a mouse. Slapped my hand down to catch it. Woke myself up. I’d slapped my thigh so hard, my hand was tingling. Ouch. sighinstereo‎ Dear Pretentious Ponytail Guy, your conversation on interpreting Catch-22 is tickling my gag reflex. Does this actually get her tingling? Kyrisa_xoxo: Oww, almost just dropped my bass guitar, hit my elbow trying to catch it and now its tingling all down my arm :/ carpalcure: Tingling Hands, Palms, Fingers Are Early Signs of Carpal Tunnel ...: For these reasons, it’s important to catch…ThaWordsmith: I love salt n vinegar chips but I hate that first chip u eat that has u ready to catch a seizure from that tingling spot under yo jaw lol OnlyoneofmeJill: @strokinguy I think it looks cool. It feels kinda weird though it’s stopped tingling now. It’s actually comfier with a bra you don’t catch it. helloImShenaaz: Dr. Miracles styling foam is theeeeeee best. But there is a catch..it HURTS! Lol the tingling sensation isn’t where it’s at...AT ALL tho. weesels: if i could make perfection for you

i would.
if i could wrap my tingling stomach in words
and catch the warmth of your body in a net
or muse over the mathematics of your fingers
applying pressure to mine
                                          i would                         i would                        i would

Poem © Nicola Easthope

Nicola’s second book Working the tang is at The Cuba Press website, and her third book published in Australia by Walleah Press (Tasmania) is A Stoic Recovery of Disordered Seasons.

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Brian Turner’s 2011 NZ cricket poem

Brian Turner (1944-2025) ONZM was one of our leading poets and a former national Poet Laureate. He was also a sports writer working on rugby books for Josh Kronfeld, Anton Oliver and Colin Meads along with two books for Glenn Turner and wrote the cricket play "Finger's Up?".

His interests included cricket, cycling, hockey, mountaneering and golf. His brothers are Greg Turner golfer and Glenn Turner, the New Zealand cricketer and Master Batsman. Brian was a New Zealand hockey rep and played cricket at U23 level.

Brian contributed a number of poems to A Tingling Catch, including poems on Ken Wadsworth the New Zealand wicketkeeper who died early and Glenn Turner.

I had correspondence with Brian for a number of years and last published him in my journal broadsheet in May 2022. He died suddenly in February 2025. I found he had written a new cricket poem in 2011 in his collection Inside Outside (VUP). I will include his poem ‘At the Crease’ in the Tingling Catch archive.

BRIAN TURNER

At the Crease

Once past 60,
or thereabouts,
every day
seems like your debut
in a sport in which
your career
will be short.

Poem © Brian Turner

I wrote a rugby poem for Brian after reading the Inside Outside collection, it’s included in my book Sidelights (HeadworX, 2017):

MARK PIRIE

At the Try Line

For Brian Turner, after reading his collection, “Inside Outside”

I was thinking
how, in life, you’re
either ‘in’ or ‘out’,
or, as you put it,
Inside Outside.

And it’s best to be ‘in’.

Music, art, literature, sport,
love, work, fashion, politics;
it’s about success or failure,
riding them out, and as
Sean Fitzpatrick says,
“Winning Matters”.

At the try line, if you’re
not in, you’re out.

But you’re really
Inside Outside
all along.

Poem © Mark Pirie

Jenny Powell’s 2026 NZ cricket poem

Jenny Powell’s poem ‘Under Cover’ was noted in the Journal of the Cricket Society review of A Tingling Catch.

When Fairfield Books in England issued a new cricket poetry anthology Catching the Light in 2026, Powell was invited to contribute a new poem.

Powell’s poem ’Distance’ is a beautifully written piece on the social side of the game exploring 'teenage flutters of heart'. I will include it here in the Tingling Catch archive.

JENNY POWELL

Distance

Love was lit
during my gathering
of autographs

teenage flutters of heart
would fly to slips when he fielded.

At the crease
his art of defensive play
nudged me

into daydreams, his sure hands
holding mine under cover

of waterfall willows,
our lips inching across
the boundary.

After the rituals of lunch, my father would gather
our belongings, march to the open stand

where first kisses
were interrupted by distance
and sunburn.

Poem © Jenny Powell

Check out the new anthology Catching the Light available from Amazon and Fishpond in New Zealand.

Humbert Wolfe’s 1924 English cricket poem

Years ago, John Quilter, the late Wellington bookseller showed me a book he had by Humbert Wolfe. Quilter, a knowledgeable person in the book trade, had noted a cricket poem in Wolfe’s Kensington Gardens (1924). The edition he had was a reprint from 1927 by Ernest Benn Limited, UK. I bought the copy from him.

Subsequent checks of cricket poetry anthologies have shown the poem by Wolfe has never been included in anthologies.

Wolfe was a popular writer during the 1920s and is not read much nowadays. He was born in Milan in 1885 and was a British civil servant receiving a CBE and CB for his services. He died in 1940 at age 55. While working a job he found spare time to write and publish over 40 publications. Wolfe was made a commander of the Order of the British Empire.

The cricket poem in Kensington Gardens is amongst poems celebrating facets of daily life in the gardens. Flowers, trees, birds, fishes, animals, games, monuments, its palace, its navigation, and its people.

HUMBERT WOLFE

Cricket

My child, when we were children,
we played in the Garden at cricket
with a racket, a ball of rubber,
and a chestnut-tree for a wicket.

I carted the ball for sixes,
while you, from the very beginnings
of our knowledge of one another,
were bowled at the start of your innings.

It’s a queer thing, isn’t it surely,
that the good ones are always out,
and the bad ones are always batting,
and knocking the others about?

Poem © Humbert Wolfe

Humbert Wolfe, National Portrait Gallery