Poetry

Apocalypse Now

On a river that drifts like a dream, the colour of dusk spills over booted boots, and the poet’s pen, half‑filled with grief, writes the flutter of menace in the rain. In the depths

WALL·E

WALL·E In a crumbling, quiet orbit, he limps through plastic echoes, WAL‑Lety, the lone spanner of Earth’s forgotten landfill. His ivory-bright arm sways, a humble sweep through rust and grit, a single

Cubic

Cubic Palimpsest Stanza 1 – The Tangible Cube In a quiet council‑room the square sits, a block of oak with edges honed to a straight, quiet — the kind that measures the light‑fall, colour‑drenched dust in its corners. The

Witness for the Prosecution

Witness for the Prosecution In the hushed marble of the High Court’s great hall, a stack of evidence sits in neat piles, the ripple of a fore‑court transcript as the judge opens his gavel‑faded

Memento

Memento – a quiet whisper of the past, a worn silver key in a pocket of memories, a scrap of paper, ink still trembling with the colour of time. It is the moment

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