Poetry

Tuber

In the cool, damp earth where shadows lie, A humble tuber waits, unnoticed, shy. Its knotted flesh, a quiet store, Holds summer’s sun in starch‑rich core. From furrowed rows the sprouts emerge, Green

Detox

Detox In the hush of morning, steam curls from a mug of herbal tea, a quiet promise to flush the excess, to let the body breathe. Sugar‑laden treats and late‑night spirits

Haven

In the quiet hush of dusk, a harbour sighs, Where gulls retreat and tides lay down their weary prize. A cottage, low and stone‑clad, sits upon the sand, Its windows warm with amber

Spoof

A mischievous grin, a whisper of jest, A spoof that twists the serious to jest. From parodies of pomp to satire’s sweet bite, We laugh at the mimicry, day and night. In

Lever

Ode to the Lever In workshops old and modern halls, A humble lever answers calls. With effort pressed on its long arm, It lifts the load, disarms the harm. The fulcrum stands, a

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