Remembering Judith Walsh
Today’s post is in memory of Judith Walsh, a longstanding member of the Christchurch poetry community who recently passed away.
Judith and I were both members of the “Friday Group” (also known as the “Boiler Room”) poetry group in the early to mid ’00s. She was also an active member of the Airing Cupboard Women’s Poetry Group and the Small White Teapot Haiku group, convening both at different times. Judith also served on the Canterbury Poets’ Collective (CPC) committee for a number of years.
In other words, Judith’s life in poetry was also one of stalwart volunteer service, without which many such groups would not continue to function. I believe her contribution to the Christchurch poetry community to be considerable – and also relatively unsung, since Judith was not a person who sought the limelight.
As well as many years of service to the community, Judith was always welcoming and supportive of other poets and new voices – of whom I was one when I first started attending the CPC events and exploring poetry with the Airing Cupboard and Small White Teapot poets. I was always remember, and be grateful for, that early welcome, encouragement, and support.
Again in the early to mid ’00s, I used to interview local poets for a show called Women on Air, on local station Plains FM. I interviewed Judith in 2009 and she gave permission for me to feature this poem (untitled), which I’m refeaturing again today, in her memory.
My mother
slim in tweed skirt
cinnamon twinset
and a string of amber beads
leans against a low brown wall.
No matter that the photo is in sepia,
I remember
ecru gloves, beige blouses
mushroom cardigans, taupe suits.
Sometimes she favoured
butterscotch, camel or russet,
and always a pair of khaki cords
just for the farm.
No-one ever questioned
if the colour suited—
maybe she saw the framework
rock
trunk
branches . . .
© Judith Walsh, 1940 – 2023
Reproduced here with prior permission.
Haere ra, Judith. Thank you for the poetry and your friendship. Rest in peace.