Wellington Writers Walk

! class="unsortable" |Plaque

! data-sort-type="text" |Writer

! data-sort-type="number" |Dates

! class="unsortable" |Quotation

! data-sort-type="text" |Source

!Location

! data-sort-value="Anderson" |Elizabeth Knox

|b. 1959

|The evening light concentrated, till the city and the

topped-up trembling horizon beyond

Pencarrow Head would begin to look like

a seaport in someone's lost paradise.

|From 'Provenance'

in The Love School

(Victoria University Press, 2008)

|https://www.google.com/maps/place/Wellington+Writer's+Walk+%231/@-41.2828242,174.7782602,18z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m5!3m4!1s0x6d38af4843440b07:0xe2c62ecfc5693f00!8m2!3d-41.2828256!4d174.779034

! data-sort-value="Astley" |Eileen Duggan

|1894-1972

|My quiet morning hill

Stands like an altar drawn

Whereon hushed hands shall lay

The shining pyx of dawn.

With penitence and stir,

And drowsy flurry by,

The wind, a shamefaced serving-boy

Comes running up the sky.

|'The Acolyte'

in Selected Poems: Eileen Duggan,

ed. Peter Whiteford

(Victoria University Press, 1994)

|https://www.google.com/maps/place/Wellington+Writer's+Walk+%232/@-41.2839725,174.7780358,18z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m5!3m4!1s0x6d38afe4ff57ea8d:0x6733410e451a82c5!8m2!3d-41.2839725!4d174.7791301

! data-sort-value="Bandler" |Denis Glover

|1912-1980

|The harbour is an ironing board;

Flat iron tugs dash smoothing toward

Any shirt of a ship, any pillowslip

Of a freighter they decree Must be ironed flat as washing from the sea.

|From 'Wellington Harbour is a Laundry'

in Come High Water

(Dunmore Press, 1977)

|https://www.google.com/maps/place/Wellington+Writer's+Walk+%233/@-41.2872816,174.7772092,17z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m5!3m4!1s0x6d38afb69d22f1ef:0x8ee95667be0ad78f!8m2!3d-41.2872857!4d174.7793979

! data-sort-value="Bean" |Michael King

|1945-2004

|I baited my line, watched it sink, and waited with

exquisite anticipation for the pecking of mullet,

the sucking of trevally, or - best of all - the sudden

pull of kahawai or kingfish.

|From Being Pakeha Now

(Penguin Books, 1999)

|https://www.google.com/maps/search/Wellington+Writer's+Walk+%234/@-41.2872735,174.7772092,17z/data=!3m1!4b1

! data-sort-value="Brennan" |Louis Johnson

|1924-1988

|From Brooklyn hill, ours is a doll-size city

A formal structure of handpicked squares and bricks

Apprehensible as a child’s construction

Signifying community.

|From 'Last View of Wellington'

in Fires and Patterns

(The Jacaranda Press, 1975)

|https://www.google.com/maps/place/Wellington+Writer's+Walk+%235/@-41.2879898,174.7772166,17z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m5!3m4!1s0x6d38af241aa73ceb:0x203f65349b01e111!8m2!3d-41.2879939!4d174.7794053

! data-sort-value="Carey" |Pat Lawlor

|1893-

1979

|And now, as I grow in years,

I feel at times like an old

violin played on by a master

hand. You, dear city, are

the maestro drawing the bow

over the sensibilities of my

mind, echoing the music

of my days.

|From Old Wellington Days

(Whitcombe & Tombs, 1959)

|https://www.google.com/maps/search/Wellington+Writer's+Walk+%236/@-41.2879817,174.7772166,17z/data=!3m1!4b1

! data-sort-value="Clark" |Lauris Edmond

|1924-2000

|It’s true you can’t live here by chance,

you have to do and be, not simply watch

or even describe. This is the city of action,

the world headquarters of the verb –

|From 'The Active Voice'

in Scenes from a Small City

(Daphne Brasell Associates Press, 1994)

|https://www.google.com/maps/search/Wellington+Writer's+Walk+%237/@-41.2879736,174.7772166,17z/data=!3m1!4b1

! data-sort-value="Clarke" |Vincent O'Sullivan

|b. 1937

|Then it’s Wellington we’re coming to!

It’s time, she says, it’s time surely

for us to change lanes, change tongues, they speak so differently down here.

|From 'Driving South with Lucy to the Big Blue Hills'

in Seeing You Asked

(Victoria University Press, 1998)

|https://www.google.com/maps/@-41.2888522,174.7787781,3a,90y,296.49h,86.07t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1sJJEEaRy_gnvrLbvg9ycqKQ!2e0!7i13312!8i6656

! data-sort-value="Conrad" |Maurice Gee

|b. 1931

|Then out of the tunnel and

Wellington burst like a bomb.

It opened like a flower, was

lit up like a room, explained

itself exactly, became the

capital.

|From Going West

(Faber and Faber, 1992)

|https://www.google.com/maps/place/Wellington+Writer's+Walk+%239/@-41.2876527,174.7747313,16z/data=!4m5!3m4!1s0x6d38af14faec583b:0x8f95516b4fc31200!8m2!3d-41.288232!4d174.7795063

! data-sort-value="Corris" |Patricia Grace

|b. 1937

|I love this city, the hills, the harbour, the

wind that blasts through it. I love

the life and pulse and activity, and the

warm decrepitude ... there’s always an edge

here that one must walk which is sharp

and precarious, requiring vigilance.

|From Cousins

(Penguin Books, 1992)

|https://www.google.com/maps/place/Wellington+Writer's+Walk+%2310/@-41.2886204,174.7777457,17z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m5!3m4!1s0x6d38afe3b907f2ed:0xa3f45f618b0a8b35!8m2!3d-41.2886245!4d174.7799344

! data-sort-value="Cusak" |Jack Lasenby

|1931-2019

|I want to live among people who believe in truth and

freedom...I want to discuss ideas... I want books...

|From The Conjurer

(Oxford University Press, 1992)

|https://www.google.com/maps/place/Wellington+Writer's+Walk+%2311/@-41.2896156,174.7777925,17z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m5!3m4!1s0x0:0xafaefeb47a23c55b!8m2!3d-41.2896197!4d174.7799812

! data-sort-value="Dark" |Bill Manhire

|b. 1946

|I live at the edge

of the universe,

like everybody else.

|From 'Milky Way Bar'

in Milky Way Bar

(Victoria University Press, 1991)

|https://www.google.com/maps/@-41.2896284,174.7806273,3a,15y,243.93h,61.7t/data=!3m7!1e1!3m5!1sn_NVtqibXKt9jVTW1YSDcQ!2e0!6shttps:%2F%2Fstreetviewpixels-pa.googleapis.com%2Fv1%2Fthumbnail%3Fpanoid%3Dn_NVtqibXKt9jVTW1YSDcQ%26cb_client%3Dsearch.revgeo_and_fetch.gps%26w%3D96%26h%3D64%26yaw%3D175.58965%26pitch%3D0%26thumbfov%3D100!7i13312!8i6656

! data-sort-value="Darwin" |Sam Hunt

|b. 1946

|Tall buildings no bigger than blocks on the floor,

Wellington afloat on the harbour haze ...

You think of how most men spend their days

In offices as cramped as elevators –

|From 'Letter to Jerusalem 2'

in Collected Poems 1963 - 1980

(Penguin Books, 1980)

|No good quality Google Maps link. Imagine this artwork is Just to the left, across the "diving board" from the previous (Bill Manhire) link.

! data-sort-value="Dennis" |Bruce Mason

|1921-1982

|I ask that not only my city,

but all, give themselves

to the essence of our cult

– the ritual assembly of an

interested coterie in a space

where magic can be made

and miracles occur.

|From Theatre in 1981: Omens and Portents

unpublished ms, Bruce Mason papers,

JC Beaglehole Room,

Victoria University of Wellington

|In front of Circa Theatre, near Te Papa

https://www.google.com/maps/@-41.2901499,174.7808488,3a,74.7y,243.82h,86.03t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1s8J9u6MB_SmkgNuLmaCk5vQ!2e0!7i13312!8i6656

! data-sort-value="Doyle" |Alistair Te Ariki Campbell

|1925-2009

|Blue rain from a clear sky.

Our world a cube of sunlight –

but to the south

the violet admonition

of thunder.

|From 'Blue Rain'

in The Dark Lord of Savaiki: Collected Poems

(Hazard Press, 2003)

|https://www.google.com/maps/@-41.289743,174.7806881,3a,52.3y,157.13h,79.78t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1sMLIVNkRpOk9ecEpXdW0Mxg!2e0!7i13312!8i6656

!Robin Hyde

|1906-1939

|Yet I think, having used my words as the kings used gold,

Ere we came by the rustling jest of the paper kings,

I who am overbold will be steadily bold,

In the counted tale of things.

|From 'Words'

in Young Knowledge: The Poems of Robin Hyde,

ed. Michele Leggott

(Auckland University Press, 2003)

|https://www.google.com/maps/@-41.2896105,174.7814115,3a,15.1y,188.51h,86.62t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1sFQEnTAbixV7aMAv10jKy8Q!2e0!7i13312!8i6656

!James K. Baxter{{Cite web|url=https://teara.govt.nz/en/photograph/44494/james-k-baxter-writers-walk-sculpture|title=James K. Baxter Writers' Walk sculpture|last=Howells|first=Pip|date=22 October 2014|website=Te Ara: The Encyclopedia of New Zealand |access-date=17 December 2019}}

|1926-1972

|I saw the Maori Jesus

walking on Wellington Harbour.

He wore blue dungarees.

His beard and hair were long.

His breath smelt of mussels and paraoa.

When he smiled it looked like the dawn.

|From 'The Maori Jesus'

in Collected Poems of James K Baxter,

ed. J E Weir

(Oxford University Press, 2003)

|https://www.google.com/maps/@-41.2894922,174.7825234,3a,40.9y,216.75h,96.06t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1sE78bVHG9-vzIABFIbMRo-g!2e0!7i13312!8i6656

!Katherine Mansfield{{Cite web|url=http://www.katherinemansfieldsociety.org/wellington-writers-walk-plaque/|title=Wellington Writers' Walk Plaque|website=Katherine Mansfield Society|access-date=17 December 2019}}

|1888-1923

|Their heads bent, their

legs just touching, they

stride like one eager

person through the town,

down the asphalt zigzag

where the fennel grows

wild ... the wind is so

strong that they have

to fight their way

through it, rocking like

two old drunkards.

|From 'The Wind Blows'

in Bliss and Other Stories

(Penguin Books, 2001)

|https://www.google.com/maps/place/Wellington+Writer's+Walk+%2318/@-41.2886123,174.7777457,17z/data=!4m5!3m4!1s0x6d38af3df6c6e91d:0xbcbc0b2e372e1649!8m2!3d-41.2893614!4d174.7830566

https://www.google.com/maps/@-41.289475,174.7830662,3a,15.3y,4.59h,83.61t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1swNW92B2EHJc_Y5HLwAtDLw!2e0!7i13312!8i6656 (Image)

!Joy Cowley

|b. 1936

|Light dances on hills and office windows

and shakes its skirts over the harbour

in a wild fandango that attracts

the pale moths of yachts in droves

|From the poem 'After the Southerly'

in Writing from the Heart

(Storylines, 2010)

|

!James McNeish

|1931-2016

|A ruffian wind is bliss, a blind man's

comfort station. When I get tired of walking

around it, I can always lean against it.

|From The Crime of Huey Dunstan

(Random House, 2010)

|https://www.google.com/maps/place/Wellington+Writer's+Walk+%2320/@-41.2896075,174.7777925,17z/data=!4m5!3m4!1s0x6d38af6b529c7cbd:0xf231f95664c08acd!8m2!3d-41.2905541!4d174.7839984

https://www.google.com/maps/@-41.2905919,174.7839315,3a,16.9y,58.69h,72.06t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1sNIgJtDkQm_lkuShXQMfkSg!2e0!7i13312!8i6656 (Image - look closely)

!Marilyn Duckworth

|b. 1935

|Then with the coming of darkness the

bay opened up beneath us, like a shell splashed

with beads of light.

|From A Barbarous Tongue

(Hutchinson, 1963)

|https://www.google.com/maps/@-41.2905718,174.7842898,3a,42.8y,2.21h,84.91t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1sxfvrnXGVfFZWE-yAA0KPaA!2e0!7i13312!8i6656

!Fiona Kidman{{Cite web|url=https://fionakidman.com/wellington-writers-walk-sculpture/|title=Wellington Writers Walk sculpture|website=Fiona Kidman - writer|access-date=17 December 2019}}

|b. 1940

|This town of ours kind of flattened

across the creases

of an imaginary map

a touch of parchment surrealism here

no wonder the lights

are wavering

all over the place

tonight

not a straight town at all

|From 'Speaking with my Grandmothers'

in Writing Wellington,

ed. Roger Robinson

(Victoria University Press, 1999)

|https://www.google.com/maps/place/Wellington+Writer's+Walk+%2322/@-41.2900549,174.7877836,17z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m5!3m4!1s0x6d38afe8d6844ea9:0xaad9489e13827508!8m2!3d-41.290059!4d174.7899723

!Barbara Anderson

|1926-2013

|Everything about it was

good. The tugging wind

trapped and cornered by

buildings, steep short

cuts bordered by Garden

Escapes, precipitous gullies

where throttling green

creepers blanketed the

trees beneath.

|From 'The Girls'

in I Think We Should Go into the Jungle

(Victoria University Press, 1989)

|https://www.google.com/maps/place/Wellington+Writer's+Walk+%2323/@-41.2886026,174.7974058,17z/data=!4m5!3m4!1s0x6d38af5987632455:0xb2bd5bb1d154048d!8m2!3d-41.2886026!4d174.7995945

https://www.google.com/maps/@-41.2882879,174.799433,3a,15y,163.75h,89.91t/data=!3m7!1e1!3m5!1s0u-42KPG1sflx37yBp5QNQ!2e0!6shttps:%2F%2Fstreetviewpixels-pa.googleapis.com%2Fv1%2Fthumbnail%3Fpanoid%3D0u-42KPG1sflx37yBp5QNQ%26cb_client%3Dsearch.revgeo_and_fetch.gps%26w%3D96%26h%3D64%26yaw%3D233.577%26pitch%3D0%26thumbfov%3D100!7i16384!8i8192 (Image)