Poetry

Clunk

Clunk In the quiet of the workshop, a spanner slips from greasy hands, its steel kisses the concrete floor— a single, resonant clunk. It echoes like a distant bell, summoning thoughts of rusted gears, of locomotives sighing

Haverfordwest County

In Haverfordwest’s ancient heart, Where cobblestones recall the past, The River Cleddau gently parts The town from fields that breathe and last. Grey stone of castle keeps the watch, Its towers sigh above

Privy

In the garden’s shaded corner, A modest privy waits, its timber worn, Oak planks scarred by rain and thunder, A humble throne where thoughts are born. The door swings soft on iron

Dundee United

In Tannadice’s emerald heart, The Terrors stride with stubborn art— A sea of tangerine and black, Where hope and history intertwine, they track. From Dundee’s fierce northern clime, They chase each ball through

Feign

Feign In quiet rooms where shadows play, We learn to feign a smile each day, A mask of silk, a whispered lie, To hide the storm that brews inside. We wear

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