When Bob Orr’s (Williams 1963-1967) publisher recently decided to test the waters of artificial intelligence, he fed a collection of Bob’s poems into the software and asked it to generate a new poem. The result was surprisingly convincing. "It sounded like me," Bob admits. "But when my publisher asked what I thought, I told him, "This is me yesterday, but it will never know who or what I will be tomorrow.'"

That imagination has shaped Bob’s life since he was a boy growing up on a small Waikato farm. Back then, he couldn't wait to leave. "I used to scorn small-town New Zealand," he laughs. "Now, I live in a tiny community of about 300 people on the Hokianga Harbour, and I love it." These days, kererū and tūī fill the trees, and he enjoys a slower pace of life. "I have loyal escorts of four fantails that accompany me down the driveway to collect the mail," he reflects. "I understand now what a small community gives you. It’s the sense of belonging."

That sense of community grew much larger when he walked through the gates of St Paul’s in 1963. Sent from the family farm by his parents for a better education, Bob entered a new world full of people who would leave a lasting impression. Among them was the Headmaster, Mr Reg Hornsby. "He was incredibly charismatic," Bob recalls. "He believed completely in what he was doing, and he would draw people into his vision."

On Sunday mornings before lunch, a group of boys would walk over to the Headmaster’s house for discussions on current affairs. "We’d talk about global events like the Cuban Missile Crisis. Mr Hornsby would throw out a sharp question and force you to think. I also remember his wife’s Yorkshire puddings, for a hungry teenage boy, they made these discussions much more bearable."

Equally influential was his English teacher, Mr Hamel, who pushed his students to look past the surface. "He taught us to open our minds, look at things from different angles, question what we were told, and think for ourselves."

Those lessons in independent thinking stayed with Bob, even if they occasionally led him off the beaten path. "I was actually suspended with six months of school left to go," he says matter-of-factly. "After five years, I was just ready to move on. I was spending more time sneaking out with my mates, who were day students and going to parties." Despite the abrupt ending to his school career, he looks back without a shred of regret, though he notes, "The car ride home with Mr Honsby to my horrified parents was certainly a silent one!"

After St Paul’s, Bob enrolled in a Bachelor of Arts at the University of Auckland, but not long after arriving, he left, "I realised it wasn't for me. At the time, protesting against the Vietnam War felt far more important than a lecture theatre."

Instead, he chose to follow opportunity wherever it drifted. After a stint in Australia and a period working in a tomato glasshouse back in New Zealand, a newspaper advertisement caught his eye. "The job was for an active handyman with the Blue Boat Company. I thought, 'That's me.'" When he turned up, they told him he was the only applicant, adding, "If you want the job, it’s yours."

It didn't take long for Bob to realise he had found his place in the world. "I’ve always loved the sea," he says. He eventually earned his skipper’s licence and spent decades working aboard tugs and pilot boats on Auckland’s Waitematā Harbour. "The Hauraki Gulf became my office."

Throughout his life, poetry remained a constant anchor from the age of 12. "I’ve always been fascinated by words and how they let you see reality through a different lens," he says. Bob’s inspiration can spark from the most mundane places. "You just have to stay open to the world around you. William Blake once wrote about seeing heaven in a grain of sand, and that concept has always stayed with me."

Bob finds that with writing, "You simply start. The poem creates its own energy as you go." Over the years, that disciplined philosophy has yielded nine published collections of poetry, each well received by critics and readers alike. Among his many achievements, he received the prestigious Lauris Edmond Memorial Award for Poetry in 2016. One particularly meaningful project reunited him with fellow Collegian and artist Rodney Fumpston (Williams 1960-1964). Together, they created the book Red Trees, a beautiful volume that combines Rodney’s printmaking with Bob’s evocative poetry. "It still makes me incredibly proud when people connect with my poems," Bob says.

Today, Bob and his wife enjoy a quiet life overlooking the Hokianga Harbour, where he continues to write and enjoy their seven grandchildren. "It’s all the pleasures of family without the 2 am nappy changes," he laughs.

True to his beliefs on freedom of thought, he has never pushed poetry onto his children or grandchildren. "If they find it, they’ll find it in their own time; they each have a copy of my books”. 

Yet, the world keeps finding his poetry. Recently, Bob was invited to St Peter’s Cathedral in Hamilton, where he discovered that the Hamilton Civic Choir had taken his poem ‘Waikato Karakia’ and set it to music. "It was a complete surprise," he says. "Hearing it sung in that space made me feel incredibly proud."

Written in 2017 while he was the Writer-in-Residence at the University of Waikato, the poem pays tribute to the majestic Waikato River, transforming its powerful movement and ancient rhythm into verse. Hearing those words echo through the cathedral was a reminder that good poetry has a unique way of taking on a grand life of its own.

Looking back on a journey that took him from a Waikato farm, Bob’s advice to the next generation of students is as clear as his verse. "Don't be afraid," he says. "You only get one life. Make it the life you want."

Bob's story reminds us that every Collegian's journey is unique. Keep your contact details up to date here so we can continue sharing stories, reunions, and news from the St Paul's community. 

Photo: 1964 Bob Orr with friends at St Paul's:  J Rouse, R Priest, (obscured) H Wood, R Brears, Jeremy Dive, Donald Riley, J Williams, Bob Orr, P Stringfield, G Stone