The Southsea poets have their words ready, like bright birds in their pockets -
On the white Walls of the gallery are paintings and drawings of dockyard people -
The artist has a humane yet piercing eye - lumpen tender figures stand before grey ships and tall cranes like iron trees -
The poets read their words -
I think of my grandad in the blacksmith shop, my dad arguing with the Port Admiral -
My own history is touched upon here -
I look up to see if I can see them, my grandfather and his sons -
There they are, gentle, quietly spoken, standing before a wall of chains -
19.39
Thursday 29 September 2016
The Jackhouse Gallery
Old Portsmouth
Hampshire
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