Poetry
Magnolia
In the hushed garden of Kew A stately magnolia stands, its bark a rough, variegated vein, flower buds swelling like dawn’s first blush— a whisper of summer in earnest brine. The leaves, pale
Read more →The Pursuit of Happyness
The Pursuit of Happyness On a quiet cobblestone street, where summer smells of clotted‑cream and the amber‑tinted sky of a late‑afternoon, I set out for a dream. Not with the grandiose umbrella of
Read more →Theft
Theft In the quiet of a London street, where late‑night buses hiss and novelists retreat, a shadow slips through the damp and drizzle, his fingers cold against the pulse of a wallet's drizzle. It is
Read more →The Martian
In the quiet twilight of a desert sky, I hear the wind speak in a tongue of iron, Its sighs a cracked old poem, written across the dust and stone, lined in the colour
Read more →Linen
From the heather‑scented fields where flax grows green, the old‑world wind pulls the stalks till they bow, serene. Farm hands twist the stiff strands into a silken line, and the handloom hums, steady—
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