portsmouth poetry 

From A Borrowed Biro

Portsdown Hill 

There is so much green below.

Am I a giant looking down on the land I dominate?

Or an eagle who briefly flew too low to perch

then perceive all the buildings and the houses?

So many structures ,

an abundance of grey and white that an architect may survey.

Safe from the sea and the wet.

To see the painted that try to reach the sky.

And the indents and twists of the maze that is the city.

I still stand before the big city and the broad blue beyond sea

and find myself praising Portsmouth,