Poetry

Norwich City

At Carrow Road the green and yellow fly, The Canaries sing beneath a Norfolk sky. Their hopes rise like the tide upon the Broads, Each pass a whisper, every tackle lauded. A

Stuff

Stuff In drawers and corners, hidden neat, The bits we call our little “stuff” – A jumble‑sock, a faded sheet, A toy that’s lost its grin enough. It gathers dust upon

Birmingham City

Beneath the soot‑kissed sky of St Andrew’s stand, Where claret streams like rust through winter’s rain, The echoes chant a loyal, steadfast band— A city’s heart that beats through joy and pain.

Bristol City

Bristol’s streets hum with a quiet pride, Where the Avon winds past the old harbour’s tide. Clifton’s suspension span arches high, A steel‑threaded sigh against the sky. Street‑art whispers on brick and

Bonnyrigg Rose

Bonnyrigg Rose, a blush of Scottish dusk, Petals unfurl like whispered lullabies, Crimson threads stitch the heather‑kissed hills, Where thistles sigh and burnet breezes sigh. In garden nooks where old stone walls

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