Poetry
Brash
Bold and brash the summer sun ascends, A splash of brass upon the pond that bends. He laughs too loud in market streets, his words A crash of colour, bright as tea‑time curds.
Read more →Grief
In the hush of dawn, a quiet ache settles like mist upon the pane, where laughter once rang bright and clear, now echoes fade to soft refrain. Grief wears a coat of
Read more →Shorn
Shorn In the hush of early morning, A ewe stands bare, her wool withdrawn, The pale sun glints on fleece‑less back, As though the heavens had been sheared. We, too, are
Read more →Plank
A weathered plank lies upon the shore, its grain a map of time’s own lore. Once part of a ship that cut the spray, now it dreams of tides that fade away.
Read more →Acrid
Acrid In the kitchen’s quiet hush, a wisp of smoke curls, Acrid as burnt toast, it bites the nostrils, A sharp, sour tang that tingles the tongue, Like orange zest left too long in
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