05 Martin Porter

05 Martin Porter

Martin Porter was born and brought up in St Helier, Jersey. He started writing verse while in primary school and developed a love of poetry during his secondary school years. His interest in science took him across the English Channel to study at the Universities of...
STILL WALKING

STILL WALKING

STILL WALKINGFor John Always pacingalways measuring out the room, measuring the Penninesmeasuring your words.  Always gaunt,but jaunty, that spring in your step, that turf stride.Lean, and bent on whatever you were bent on, for it was always a three-quarter...
A Dream

A Dream

I have a dream the great man saidHis words keep rolling round my headI have one too, the world I seeIs one of peace with mankind freeNo war, no ills, just rolling hillsWith Birds and trees and gentle breeze No Black, no White, just human kindNor man nor woman cloud my...
Ancient Nativity in a Modern World

Ancient Nativity in a Modern World

Ancient Nativity in a Modern World. This, the nativity time of year.Mum’s plunder cold, dark drawersfor old sheets, worn out tea towelsforgotten dressing gownsand dusty summer sandals. This, the time of transformationfrom iPad childrento first-century shepherdsbearing...
The Photo Album

The Photo Album

The Photo AlbumThe airy room is well lit, warm and welcoming,facing south across a shallow valleywhere the land slopes away,gently downwards and away.Heat from a summer’s afternoon relaxes,gently loosening towards the start of evening. “May I sit here?” I ask the...
Creosote Grandad Shed

Creosote Grandad Shed

Creosote, Grandad, Shed. Mid seventies, mid summermid afternoon.Heat blossoms amid ripening raspberries.Flowers reach skyward.Grass warm on feet. Shed door wide open,an ear listening for a breeze.Rhythmic peaceful breathingfrom the incumbent in a deckchairGrandad’s...

To Become A Nightingale

To Become A Nightingale            Struck dumb by Universal Credit I entered the hedge-school of charity shops, prised apart jackets of  musty spinneys on the men’s rail dense with tweed, leather, rayon, polyester looking for subfusc/olive – found two brown...

The Homeless Man Thinks of Ancient Egypt

The Homeless Man Thinks of Ancient Egypt            I pray to the sun on these temple walls, the shifting angles and blaze of it, the way it melts the pavement ice mid-morning near the cashpoint. I imagine them as merchants, astronomers and viziers sitting at the...

A Flying Visit

A Flying Visit                                                  I see shiny-bald         thick-necked Mr Metcalfe                            blowing smoke-rings in his braces and white singlet         resting arms on the dining room table                           as...