Poetry
Budge
Budge In the quiet of the morning, the cat lies stretched upon the rug, a soft, unyielding mound of fur— she will not budge, she will not tug. The clock ticks
Read more →Gateshead
Gateshead By the lazy bend of the Tyne’s dark water, Where the bridges hum like low‑tuned violins, The town awakens beneath a slate‑grey sky, Its chimneys puffing soft, steady sighs. The
Read more →Liken
To liken is to whisper a mirror’s soft sigh, To see a rose in the cheek of a dawn‑kissed sky, To hold two thoughts, like hands clasped in quiet accord, And find in
Read more →Institute
In the quiet cloisters of the Institute, Where minds are sharpened like a fine‑edged blade, Scholars labour over parchment and screen, Their thoughts a steady, unending cascade. The lecture theatre hums with
Read more →Latch
The Latch Upon the garden gate, a humble latch, A quiet keeper of the yard’s repose, It clicks with British grace, a modest catch That guards the blossoms where the sweet peas grows.
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