Porlock
Its where they drag boats
over hills,
across fields and catch
oysters ..
It’s where when it’s still,
no sound
can be heard except for
the larks
in the sky, the buzzing of
bumble bees
and more often than not,
either fair or
foul wind in old cotton sails ..
-
Author:
Neville (
Offline) - Published: August 23rd, 2025 07:28
- Comment from author about the poem: not too far from me ..
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange, Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments7
A locale evidently frequented by arguably the most noted of the romantic poets...so that's how Kubla Kahn got foreshortened.... I learn something new every day, but it takes a local to put me on the right track.
Fair dinkum mate .. Cheers 😎👍
Poetry evocative, as others have noted, and while also appreciative I do enjoy the chance to get me history in place also.👍
Neville not to the name you name but to another I have been there. A beautiful portrayal of images that put my feet back in that sand and felt that wind against my cheek crossing those fields and hearing only the lark. Very nice my friend a fave
Make me smile BIG why don'tcha .. cheers my friend ..
Have a house built on rock by a lighthouse that within a bit of a walk runs down to that beach where the fishermen still pull their wooden boats up the sand that runs for about a mile and a half of flats with sea grass and dunes to the main road.
Neville, this paints peace…the boats, the fields, the quiet broken only by larks and bees. It’s a scene I could stand in. Beautifully done. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️
Many thanks Tristan .. 😎💛⭐🐈⬛🐦⬛🐧👍
You are most welcome, my friend!
I like the salt‑soft nostalgia in Porlock, like a postcard you can smell and hear. The images roll in as gently as the tide, of boats hauled over green hills, fields that taste of brine, and oyster shells clinking in invisible baskets. That quiet moment where “no sound” reigns except the larks and bees feels like the pause between breaths, when the whole world leans in to listen. And then the sails appear, cotton‑worn and weather‑beaten, catching either blessing or burden from the wind; as if Porlock itself lives in that delicate balance between calm and the next shift in weather.
Hope you don't mind but I've cut n pasted your entire comment & will re-visit when its too inclement to pay homage to Porlock in person .. Bless you sir .. Neville
Not at all. Take your time Nev🙏🏻🕊️
Enjoyed. Thank you.
Thank you Kevin .. Neville
Charming, very charming indeed. While rendered casually with a sense of simplicity as pure as the allusion to cotton, yet how inextricably you've managed to lend a deeper notion somehow. Very lovely with excellent imagery and a peaceful poignancy haunting. Thank you very much for sharing.
Charmed I'm sure and then some .. Chuffed to bits to be more precise Missy .. Neville
Good write Neville.
Andy
Right good then .. Cheers Andy .. Neville
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