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Poul Webb is a painter and printmaker and has held sixteen one-man exhibitions in Mayfair, London. He has been represented in many international exhibitions including at the Museum of Modern Art, Rijeka, the Museum of Fine Arts, Bilbao and is represented in the H.M Government Art Collection. Poul has had two previous collections of poetry published. |
‘An unusual collection with much to discover and enjoy ... a strong voice ... speaks with memories and personal knowledge...’
Lynn Woollacott, reviewing Poul Webb‘s second collection, ‘The colour of French’
Lynn Woollacott, reviewing Poul Webb‘s second collection, ‘The colour of French’
Published in April 2019
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UNDERTONES by Poul Webb Paperback 15cm wide x 21cm tall 62 pages RRP £9.00 |
This is Poul Webb’s third collection of poems. An artist as well as a writer, he has an observant eye for the everyday as well as the exotic. A pathway becomes ‘like a grey zipper across the glistening grass’ in an urban park, a bridge is ‘lifted from a Japanese print ... silvered and striated with age..’
and there is ‘Plankiness’ in the sound of feet upon it. Whether he writes of city coffee shops and their clientele or the beauty of mountains in north Africa and the daily grind of the people living there, these are highly crafted, often lyrical poems. Always aware of the fourth dimension, the poet also takes us to visit the recent past, where Warhol may be encountered on the sixth floor of an office block, and to the chip shop of his youth. And meetings and partings are gently remembered and, in the later poems, anticipated.
and there is ‘Plankiness’ in the sound of feet upon it. Whether he writes of city coffee shops and their clientele or the beauty of mountains in north Africa and the daily grind of the people living there, these are highly crafted, often lyrical poems. Always aware of the fourth dimension, the poet also takes us to visit the recent past, where Warhol may be encountered on the sixth floor of an office block, and to the chip shop of his youth. And meetings and partings are gently remembered and, in the later poems, anticipated.
