Simon M Hunter Poems

Gerrard Winstanley and the Diggers:

St. George's Hill in forty nine, the time
Of Charles's chopping block, we Diggers come
...

Where there was fear and a handful of must
Where there was discord, a footfall of dust
Where there was strife and its cries of despair
There was the Thatch with its bones in its lair
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Dusk in Canton. An unctuous rain in smears
Obscures the bustle. Under plastic sheets
The fat-wrapped grills are smoking. 'Pork and beers! '
For dripping patrons. Up from running streets
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But Kora sat unmoving, in great magic.
The walls, her home, faded about her. Warmth
went; all alone and on a freezing plain,
dressed in a tunic, sharp knife in her belt,
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For Joan Margarit

First movement: Larghissimo con moto
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“Je suis desja d’amour tanné
Ma tres doulce Valentinée…”

In olden days the Roman maids
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Gather round ye English folk
Listen to my tale true
You will shiver, in sweat you'll soak
At the ballad of NodoleView
...