Chris Campbell’s poetry collection rooted in Bristol

The birth of Chris Campbell’s latest collection of poems, All Island No Sea, was Clifton, where he lived in 2017 – before moving to Nottingham with his partner (now wife) Rowa for her studies.

The couple returned to Bristol in 2021, and are now based in Horfield. For Campbell, the whole city remains a place of great inspiration.

“I love that you can enjoy so much nature when living in Bristol,” he reflects, “either the views from its many hills, or the abundance of parks and green spaces.

Poet Chris Campbell and his wife Rowa walking in Clifton Down – photo: Chris Campbell

“It’s a beautiful and creative city that I’ve been inspired by so much since moving here.”

Campbell cites the scenery and people around the harbourside, Stokes Croft, Southville, the hills and streets of Montpelier, and St Werburghs.

Looking over the view over south Bristol and beyond, from his bedroom window in Clifton, he wrote the poems Umbrella Sunshine, and Yolk, both of which feature in the new collection.

Poet Chris Campbell at Infringed open mic, The Bristol Fringe – photo: courtesy of the artist

Picking Olives was written in his kitchen, and I Scrape the Earth Underneath This Pram came to him while on a walk with his baby son, up to Clifton Observatory.

Joey Barton Has the Same Barber was based on a conversation Campbell had in a Clifton barber shop.

Chris Campbell at Lyra – Bristol Poetry Festival – photo courtesy: of the artist

Joey Barton Has the Same Barber

as me. I lean forward in the chair,
hair sticking to my linen shirt,
and mull over the buzz of ageing,
my bald patch bigger.
Barber says no one notices
because I’m tall, but I see the grey
strands stolen by gravity: dust
in the wind. What about when I’m sat
down? My crown in the mirror
is a burnt halo. Joey Barton was here
last week I’m told, over scissor snips.
Bristol Rovers’ captain proposed
this barbers to the manager;
since coming here the team wins.
Now Joey insists he or the captain
get a pre-match trim: a lucky
charm, and they can’t lose.
Barber has been asked to go
to matches. One problem: he’s a rival
City fan and refuses
to attend. They’ve offered him box
tickets so he’s away from the fans.
He begrudgingly accepts if Rovers
reach the play-off final, but warns
them he won’t celebrate, so not
to try with him. I’ll be checking
the scores weekly to see
how they progress, and if they reach
the final I’ll watch, thinking
about the barber in the box, sombre
regardless of result –
there for his trade and new-found
fame. I’ll cheer if Rovers score, jump
so high no one can see
my bald patch.

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I Scrape the Earth Underneath This Pram

to celebrate the moment I am here
with my new-born – like initials on a tree.
I use twigs to uncover beetles – I hold
them up to mark the occasion.
The hills huddle around the city; wear
clouds like oversized sombreros.
Mid-day reflects off the pram’s frame, Spring
uncovers fingerprints. The young
group behind play George Harrison’s
‘Here Comes the Sun’, under parasols.
I’m sat on a memorial bench, my foot
above the pram’s brake. They grow up so fast,
I’m told.

It’s time to saunter home to feed. Rock
climbers reach the cliff top beside us –
unhook heavy clips; like my changing
bag’s small straps, swinging
during our easy roadside stroll.
The athletes negotiate ice cream, throw down ropes;
smiles and sweat drip over cones.
I savour the surroundings a last time and notice
the plaque behind me: ‘Johnny spent
such a happy childhood here’.
Lift my neck, the view beneath the cliff
pops up like my son’s toy firefly.
Youth will fall behind, but happiness
can be found at any time.

Chris Campbell: All Island No Sea is out now, published by Alien Buddha Press.

Main photo: Chris Campbell

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