Poetry

Couch

On the well‑worn settee, the fabric sighs beneath my weight, soft cushions cradle like a promise, their threads a quiet, familiar weave. Evening light slips through the curtains, casting amber pools across the

Crusaders

Crusaders Upon the sun‑baked hills of distant lands, Where golden dunes meet ancient stone, The Crusaders ride in steel‑clad bands, Their banners snapping like a solemn hymn. With hearts aflame for faith and holy cause, They

Everton

Goodison’s blue and white stand tall, Where Toffees roar beneath the sky— A chorus sings of battles fought, Of triumphs forged in Everton’s cry. From Dixie Dean to modern days, The spirit pulses,

Barry Town United

Jenner Park on a Saturday grey, Where the green and white kit comes out to play. The smell of hot pie, the terraces' hum, A familiar rhythm, welcoming some. C'mon Barry! rings sharp through

Visit

A gentle knock upon the garden gate, The scent of lavender drifts on the breeze, We step inside, where time seems to abate, And share a pot of tea beneath the trees.

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