Poetry

Admin

In the humming heart of the office, Admin stands tall, a quiet titan— Filing, sorting, keeping order, Turning chaos into calm. With a click and a soft‑spoken “please”, She weaves schedules like delicate

Rough

Rough On the cobbled lane the stones lie rough, their edges worn by centuries of tread, each fragment telling stories tough, of carts that creaked and feet that shed the dust of market‑day

Shuck

On the wind‑kissed pier at dawn, the tide pulls back its silver curtain, revealing rows of pearl‑clad secrets nestled in the cold, damp sand. A weather‑worn hand grips the knife, its blade catching

Pitch

On the cricket field, the pitch lies low, A strip of earth where fortunes flow, Hardened by sun and stubborn rain, It tests the bat, it guards the strain. The bowler’s arm

Tripe

Ode to Tripe In bustling market stalls, where aromas blend, A humble dish awaits the daring friend: Tripe, the cow’s soft lining, blanched and white, Simmered slow with onions, herbs, and bite. It

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