You've read the news stories about the separation of immigrant families in the United States. You will be aware of the message Melania Trump carried on her coat. Poets have responded, from both sides of the Atlantic. Read what they have to say, this weekend, at Poetry24.

Thursday, 24 May 2018

Grandad (Jamaica 1948)

When Grandma died, Grandad was sad.
Then he was fun and cheerful again.
Now he’s gone back to being sad –
Dad told him we’re leaving Kingston.

And going to live in London Town
And he’ll be getting a very good job
And we’ll be going to very good schools
And we’ll soon own our very own house.

That made Grandad a bit less sad.
Dad said he’ll be sending money back home
And that made Grandad cheerful again.
He hugged me … and his eyes went watery …

He said he’d miss us playing cricket
Watch the ball – all the way – onto the bat.
Head down – sniff the leather – swing out hard.
He always said that. Grandad grabbed

My arm, then went a little bit mad –
Said he wasn’t talking about cricket
But cricket was really life itself.
‘Mark my words!’ He jabbed me hard.

© Richard Devereux

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Richard Devereux is a member of Lansdown Poets and Bristol Stanza. His collection Bill tells the story of his grandfather, a soldier of World War One who fought on the Balkan front in northern Greece. Richard taught English in Athens and his knowledge of Greece inspires and informs much of his writing. His poems have appeared in several anthologies and on-line magazines.

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