Lament for a lost city

My Stolen City: A Collection of Poems

Queen Elizabeth II visited the English Market in an historic coalescence of royal and rebel. It was a pity she did not take the extra step and visit the magnificently-restored Christchurch building, once a place of worship, then a city archive and now a beautiful Triskel arts venue. That very evening it hosted the launch of the impressive debut collection of poems by George Harding.

The Queen was clearly impressed by what she saw and heard on her brief tour. Harding, as the title of his book suggests, casts a colder eye on the city he inhabits and about which he has conflicting emotions.

Harding is passionate about his city and his artistic integrity shines through, in his title work My Stolen City. Not stated but obvious, his deep reservations are rooted in the much- changed cityscape:

No one seems to remember when we lost our city…

The brutal landscape rises like glass virgin mushrooms

Again, in The Cranes Are Up, he observes:

The cranes have flown!

…What big eyes they had. What big bills!

Who’d have known they’d leave, who’d have known

In Fires, he returns to his concerns of how his city and its port might evolve:

… someone will procure the keys to lock

The ships out and quench the history of the City.

These people-who are these?

Out of town, in wild rurality, he is equally at home when he recalls the majesty of precious woodland:

And still we kill trees so that books might be written about them

For many readers by far the most moving and closely observed work is his Damn Alzheimers when his cry from the heart:

we should have seen the signs…

will resonate with carers and those who live with heartbreak every day of their lives. They will identify with

…it is sad we two did not talk more…

Hopefully there will be other collections to follow this first edition.