Poetry

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

The Iron Outlaws In the age when iron‑clad locomotives hissed across the empire’s bones, Two shadows slipped from the rails of the West; their names were sung in tones of rumours: Butch Cassidy,

Fluke

The Quiet Fluke In the mist‑kissed shallows where the sea‑sorrel grows, a quiet fluke slips across the silt‑white floor— its gills like folded lace, its body a muted dove, sunk beneath the green glare

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?

“What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?” What ever happened to Baby Jane? the shattered echo of a stage‑handed grin, her silver‑haired laughter curdled into a weird lullaby that sounded less like applause and more like a lull

Hydra

Hydra In the damp hush of the Hesperides’ groves, a serpent’s breath would stir the tea‑leaf air, its heads—crowned with iridescent, cryptic splendour— spaced by moon‑lit veins of wet clay. Perseus, with glinting

The Shop Around the Corner

The Shop Around the Corner In haven of the cobbled lane, where dust‑laden dawn is light, a modest sign in faded gilt swings open, welcome bright. Whispers of tea and marmalade beneath the

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