Gas Leak

I’m waiting for the gas leak

The indeterminable hiss of my mother tongue

Amidst the hundred I do not care to speak

A word, an acknowledgment I might be understood

No-one likes to be the pointer, it is rude

I long to hear the serpents kiss

‘It’s alright, I understand completely’

Instead I am greeted with an order

I try to make the best of

Complain politely, receive muted anger

Frustration on both sides

An unsolicited fang drips with the venom of insults

I do not know but whose meaning

I cannot fail to grasp

Yes, I’m waiting for the gas leak

I’ll hear it when the tyres touch home.

Little Ginge x



She was barren

A mother land to no-one

Even her children

Forgot how they came to be

She was burning

Scorching from every pore

Her hair catches alight

Often without warning

She was blessed

Defensive tricks abound

The hostility came in waves

Of sand and of sea

She was beautiful

Invaded by curious strangers

Who all took the parts they liked

And brought the ones they missed

Now she was desolate.

Little Ginge x


We made a home in your hall
Found your garth quite comfortable for the week
She was a beauty even when in tears
When she had more grief than Van Gogh
We took a tour of her hidden features
Watched her children play with wonder and delight
That I cannot summon up in any city
But when she smiles and the clouds roll over
Bringing out the dimples in her undulating curves
You know she’s a Northern lass for sure;
Broad and inviting with a soul so pure

With which the South cannot compete.

Little Ginge x

Driving 101

Direction is a straight forward concept
Two options to learn, four in my brain
For those of us who are annoyingly challenged
With the lefts and the rights, the daily plight
You’ll get there, don’t worry, but just remember

Keep your hands on the wheel.

Little Ginge x


The guitar twitches
Scratching the itch I can’t
Already moving on
For the niggle at the base of my neck to return
A thought I can’t banish
Actions with no payoff
Words with no meaning
Frustration lays before me
In a criss cross pattern
Of backstreets and alleys I know intimately
But they have an allure
Akin to a stale lover
Been there, done that
Let me drive off the map page

But first, change the song.

Little Ginge x

Night After Day

Warm, dry, curved
The sensual slope of dry stone
Orange, brown, rough
Nature glows even in the dark
The animals yet to be discovered
Hide underneath and in the splendour
Ignored by tourists full of awe
They try to capture images that cannot be taken
They belong right there, imposing and loud
I am here the rocks say
Do not touch the Bella threatens
Navy ink pollutes up above
Swallowing the orange till all turns purple
Who knew there was glory in the dirt?
Mother’s worst kept secret needs her beauty sleep

And is happy for me to watch her as she does.


Little Ginge x

Runaway Kisses

Well-worn tracks
My old friends
Pounded tarmac
Beneath the wheels

The air whispers Route 66
Tells me, it ceased to exist
I grit my teeth
And push the pedal
It’s here I say, it’s here
But only if you believe

Who needs the signs?
When memories flow through
the air conditioning?
I remember a lost love
Who never came to this country
Let alone drove this road
But he did taste these lips

The ones that smile on 66.


Little Ginge x


Stark, uncompromising, bleak

A beauty hidden from the sea

In the midst the of a battle

Fought with words not weapons

Harsh, ruthless, austere

Splendour amongst the trees

Map lines redesign the boundaries

Unacknowledged by the livestock

Barren, challenging, desolate

The magnificence lies in the breeze

A widow races after her shroud

Wondering what is happening to her vale.

Little Ginge x

Highway 66

They say it’s the tarmac where dreams were born and lost

Where people truly find out the cost

No matter how you drive, it has a certain charm to it

And I long to travel every single bit

The only road where broken means beauty

An obsession so bad it’s my own tour of duty

Where the women search for Mr Right

They mentioned marriage and gave him a fright

He disappeared West chasing a notion of success

But the only fruit it produced was stress

Small town communities surviving on the edge

And deserts where I’ll make my pledge

After finally finding the ultimate ‘view’

Even better, I’ll be with you.

Little Ginge x