Poetry

Denim

Denim whispers in cotton‑woven seams, A sturdy cloth that bears the street‑wise dreams. From work‑yard looms to city‑side cafés, Its indigo hue fades in sun‑kissed ways. Trousers cut with a straight, honest

Catch

On a quiet river bend, the fisherman waits, His line a silver thread that hums with hope, He watches ripples dance where shadows play, And dreams of silver flashes in the rope.

Valid

Valid In the hush of morning light, a thought takes shape, A quiet certainty that steadies the heart— Not loud, not flashy, but true as the tide’s soft lap, It whispers that

Howdy

Howdy, mate, the morning’s gold Spills over hills where stories unfold, A tip‑of‑the‑hat to passing folk, A cheery word and friendly joke. We share a cuppa, strong and sweet, Biscuits crumbling beneath our

Vigor

Vigour blooms like sunrise on the hill, A steady pulse that drives the will, It courses through each limb and breath, A lively spark that mocks fatigue and death. In morning’s crisp,

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