Mark Pirie’s new cricket book Poets XI published

In October 2026, I released my new cricket book Poets XI. Here’s the book info: 

About the book

Poets XI compiled by Mark Pirie cricket poet and editor and published by Earl of Seacliff Art Workshop is a collection of poems and unusual cricket XIs published to commemorate the Poets XI at the Longroom Basin Reserve, Sunday 31 October 2010.

Cricket historian and writer Don Neely launched the book.

The Earl of Seacliff himself was the MC at the event.

Pirie selected a team of poets on the day that had attended his launch of the book A Tingling Catch at the Basin. Poets are: Nicola Easthope, Tim Jones, Harry Ricketts, Michael O'Leary, John Ansell, Nelson Wattie, Niel Wright, David McGill, Richard Langston, Don Neely and Mark Pirie the captain.

An appendix offers some of the New Zealand literature XIs made by writers over the years. 

Poets XI is a unique piece of cricketing memorabilia.

The cover features a photo by Madeleine Slavick of Don Neely crossing the Basin taken at the event.

Poets XI is available internationally online at lulu independent bookstore Shop the Indie Online Bookstore | Lulu.

Niel Wright’s NZ cricket poem

Here’s another cricket-related poem by Wellington poet, critic and publisher Niel Wright also known as F W N (Nielsen) Wright. Niel is a contributor to A Tingling Catch with his 'Elegy in the Kaiwharawhara Valley' about Ian Galloway Park in Wellington. I considered Niel's other poem 'Age Knocks' for A Tingling Catch but in the end I decided to leave it out when I thought it best to cut the book to under 200 pages. Nevertheless it’s important to the "Tingling Catch" blog as an online archive of New Zealand cricket poetry:

F W N WRIGHT

Age Knocks

Age knocks the human dream for six;

   Exposing as a comfort zone

The middle years

   Of lives like mine and yours

Then some pursue delusory success.

   And others over a conundrum puzzle.

Age knocks the human dream for six.

Age even has no place for sex;

Penis reduced to pizzle.

   Then all your efforts own

Mere hustle and mere bustle.

Age knocks the human dream for six;

   Exposing as a comfort zone

The middle years

   Of lives like mine and yours.

Poem © F W Nielsen Wright

I like the poem’s idea of having a cricket ball hit for six compared to the process of human aging. Niel implies that aging which comes to us all eventually is much like a bowler being hit for six. This can be a deflating action for any bowler just as aging can be deflating for many. There is a sense of a loss of power, you can no longer do what you did in your younger years. 

The poem like many of Niel’s writings makes use of a novel idea. Some of the rhymes may not be to everyone’s tastes, but Niel tries to make use of any word from any given time period. As such, he is like the home handyman that builds with every bit of timber he can find. Some critics have labelled him ‘old-fashioned’ concerning his vocabulary and technique but that is Niel and to judge him solely on his choice of words or technique and form would be to miss the value of his poetry overall.

In 2010, I edited and published Niel’s selected poems The Pop Artist’s Garland ( a selection from his epic poem The Alexandrians and some Post-Alexandrian work) and co-organised the Poetry Archive of New Zealand Aotearoa with Niel and Michael O’Leary.

Check out Nelson Wattie’s launch speech on the Poetry Archive opening and Niel’s book at: http://poetryarchivenz.wordpress.com/2010/08/08/the-poetry-archive-of-new-zealand-aotearoa-is-launched/

More information on Niel at Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niel_Wright

Article © Mark Pirie 2010



The Pop Artist's Garland by F W N Wright
(HeadworX: Wellington, 2010)

Dominion Post - Nelson Wattie's Karori Park

A poem by Nelson Wattie from A Tingling Catch was featured in the "Thursday Poem" page of the Wellington newspaper Dominion Post today. It's a poem about Karori Park where Wellington club cricket takes place over the summer.

NELSON WATTIE

Karori Park

It’s funny how they

wear their whites on greens,

clock bat on ball

and think they’re English.

It’s March. The sun is bright.

We walk into forest shade.

The trees are tall, and fine and foreign

with bark that cracks to show its age.

The floor is brown with dry

and ancient needles,

and in branches above

the sun has disappeared.

When we emerge, the game

is over and white legs

have turned to blue and gone,

while light is fading from their green.

Poem © Nelson Wattie

(from Dominion Post, Thursday 7 October 2010)