Poetry

Model

In quiet studios where light does play, A model stands, a living display, Her posture poised, a silent line, A canvas brushed with grace design. She moves like tide on Brighton’s shore, Each

Dwarf

In the hush of ancient hills they dwell, Stout‑hearted dwarves with beards like braided wool, Their hammers ring where crystal caverns swell, Forging bright treasures in the mountain’s skull. They tread the

Naval

Upon the restless sea the navy sails, White‑capped and keen beneath a greying sky, Her hulls of steel and timber kiss the gales, While pennants flutter where the gulls still fly. From

Focal

Focal In the glass of morning’s eye, a single point, Where light converges, a soft‑focused gleam, The world contracts to that still, shining joint— A hub of colour, a quiet, steadfast scheme. It

Rebut

In the quiet court of thought, I stand, Where voices rise and arguments expand, Each claim a thread that seeks to bind, Yet I prepare to loosen, to unwind. I hear the charge, the

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