Poetry

Barrow

Barrow In the hush of the Downs, where the heather sighs low, A grass‑clad swell rises – a silent barrow, A tumulus dressed in moss and thyme, Where Neolithic hands once piled stone and

Dense

Dense In the heart of the ancient wood the canopy grew dense, A tapestry of leaf and branch that shut out heaven’s gleam; Sunlight filtered through the green‑tinged haze, a shy, diffused sense, As

Milton Keynes Dons

Ode to the Dons (Milton Keynes Style) Not born of ancient, mossy ground, But forged where grid-roads winding found Their concrete squares beneath the sky, Where silver buses glide and sigh. No centuries of echoes

Harland & Wolff Welders

Harland & Wolff Welders In Belfast’s dock where Harland & Wolff looms, The welders raise their arms against the steel, With oxy‑acetylene’s bright blue plumes, They trace each seam where mighty hulls

Sworn

Sworn Upon the misty hills of Devon's green, I took an oath, a pledge both deep and true, To guard the heather, stone, and ancient scene, Where sheep in silent flocks the morning chew.

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