Alyson Hunter
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Film of the launch of 'The Painted Sailor' collection of poetry by the Artist at the Penthouse, New Zealand House, London
Film of the Launch of 'Night Bus' a collection of poetry by the Artist at the FrenchHouse, Soho, London

Picture
           

          Night Bus

            As the night bus charges
            through the spattered streets
            I watch the look of despair
            as the e and the alcohol
            leaves the youth facing me-
            his face wan under rat-tails

            His dead mother comes to me,
            and says, 'He is my darling boy-
            touch his trembling eyelids
            and sad mouth for me.'
            But the bus just hurtles on
            through the spattered streets

            His mother's tears cry,cry,
            over the the windows wet,
            gutters greedy take the rush,
            we are all as one
            as the night bus takes her son,
            me, and the rat-tails
            through the spattered streets.

​                                                                                                      North London 2005

Picture
             
           Pukekura Park

             Green light filters through the fern
             English roses glow softly around us
             you ask if we should marry
             as the olive creek
             moves quietly
             over its brown bed

           But no,
             the gray Thames
             the silver Tamar
             the pink stinking rivers of Cadiz
             have also moved slowly, ceaselessly
             under their still bridges
             and now
             it is too late
.

           1974, New Plymouth, N.Z.

Picture

             A Sense of Place


             The big-bellied Comet aeroplane
             
rose heavily over the the green bush
            
the woman sitting close to me asked 
            
Is the blue beneath us
            
lakes and rivers?
               
             I answered 

          
No, they are clouds below us.
            
Disbelieving, she looked away
             so we sat in different spaces

             She between earth and clouds
             I between clouds and sky

             And the aerolplane glistened red
             In the late sub-tropical sun
             As our shadow moved slowly over
             Blue, green, brown, yellow
             Blue, green, blue.

              King Country, New Zealand 1974


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  • Home
  • Paintings
  • Biography
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  • Printmaking
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  • Poetry
  • Sculpture
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