There’s an Escape Lane on Porlock Hill
For those cars that are rusting, creaking and leaking
For those drivers whose brakes have failed to arrest them
It forces them uphill ‘til they judder and stop.
There’s an Escape Lane on Porlock Hill
It’s not for the likes of me, my driving restrained, my vehicle maintained
Appropriately serviced with logbook stamps-in-a-row
It’s for someone else entirely; quite other than me.
There’s an Escape Lane on Porlock Hill
For someone who speeds and needs to be forced to a stop
Leaving them battered and bruised – and feeling quite foolish
It’s not for me: I don’t need it. I can stop by myself.
Truly, I can stop.
Dec 10, 2025
Dec 10, 2025 at 4:38 AM UTC
I know, I know, there's something that you want me to say
You feel it's time, I hear it in the tone of your voice
But somehow, expectations just get in the way
I wonder why the rush, why must I do it today?
Not telling me, you're telling me to hurry it up
I know, I know, there's something that you want me to say
You ask, you ask, and no doubt you hope and you prey
You show your love, it's in the lightest touch of your hand
But somehow, expectations just get in the way
Just today you asked me if I want you to stay
I try to hold you close so you can feel what I feel
I know, I know, there's something that you want me to say
My love, my love, you and I once swore to obey
To love, to cherish, to perish all thoughts of things in between
But somehow, expectations just get in the way
My love, my love, tell me why I'm slipping away
Where and why and what and how, this pitiless change
I know, I know, there's something that you want me to say
But somehow, expectations just get in the way
Nov 12, 2025
Nov 12, 2025 at 10:13 AM UTC
The little girl hunkers down
And holds out her right hand
Just as she has been shown.
Two sun-streaked plaits extending from
Her bright green cycle helmet.
The cat is velvet soft and grey
His fur is thick and inviting.
He pads forward and raises his chin
Then slowly, slowly, rubs his head
Against her outstretched fingers.
She can’t quite keep inside
A little sound of pure delight.
Dec 4, 2024
Dec 4, 2024 at 9:47 AM UTC
Small dogs on tube trains and
Cats with mashed noses
Wild flow'rs in pavements and
Wind scattered roses
Half-fallen French plaits and
Scuffs to inspect
Scruffy and fluffy, these
Things I collect
Neon marshmallows and
Old crumbs re-toasted
Personal messages
WhatsApp group posted
Unthought-through questions that
I can deflect
Curious, spurious
Things I collect
Daft ice cream flavours and
Not-quite-set jelly
Duvets on sick days with
Sofa and telly
Out-of-place objects and
Tales I project
Happy and scrappy, these
Things I collect
Dec 4, 2024
Dec 4, 2024 at 8:47 AM UTC
Amongst some trees a sign says Doctor Martens
I walk into the shop
A man in leather with long hair stands behind the bar
I ask for new boot laces, stripy ones if they have them
The biker's face is hard to read
He offers me skull shaped metal studs
As if this is what I had meant
I don't think it was but perhaps I am wrong
Dec 4, 2024
Dec 4, 2024 at 8:25 AM UTC