Poetry

Arbroath

In the Angus breeze where cliffs sigh low, Arbroath clings to ancient stone and tide, Where smoky fish curl in amber glow, And monks once whispered, side by side. The Abbey’s arches,

St Johnstone

At McDiarmid Park the sky turns blue and gold, Where St Johnstone’s lads chase dreams both brave and bold. Their striped shirts ripple like the Tay’s soft tide, A town’s proud heartbeat, never

Token

A token, small and modest, rests in palm— A piece of paper, metal, bright as coin, A symbol of the promises we make, A pledge that bridges hearts, though thin and thin.

Eastleigh

Eastleigh’s quiet streets recall the day When steam hissed from the platform, coal‑black smoke Curling above the lines where journeys sway Between the countryside and London’s folk. The town’s heart beats beneath

What We Currently Know and Don't Know About Gnomes

What We Currently Know and Don't Know About Gnomes In the hushed corners of garden beds, we know gnomes tip their pointed caps at sunrise, their eyes twinkling like dew‑kissed beetles, guarding

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