Poetry

Terse

Terse In quiet rooms where words are few, Each syllable a measured thread, A whisper cuts the lingering hue Like morning frost on garden shed. A terse remark — sharp, clean, precise — Falls like a

Chaos

In the hush before the storm, Chaos unfurls its wild refrain, A tapestry torn where order’s torn, Yet beauty hides in fractured pain. Colours clash in reckless dance, Thoughts collide like thunder’s roar, From

Briny

Briny whispers kiss the tide’s edge, Where salt‑kissed waves caress the shore, A lover’s sigh in sapphire pledge, The ocean’s breath forevermore. In rocky coves the gulls do cry, Their wings aloft in

Stall

In the market’s hushed morning light, A wooden stall stands patient, bright, Its canvas awning, striped in blue, Shelters wares both old and new. Apples gleam like polished stone, Loaves of crusty bread

Media

In the neon glow of midnight screens, where bytes cascade like restless rain, the world unfurls in pixel dreams, a ceaseless stream of joy and pain. Headlines flash in bold, stark type, tweets

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