Poetry

Poser

The poser sits where light is low, A measured sip, a joke they know Will land just right—too keen, too slick, Their laughter hits a fraction thick. They name-drop bands no one's heard yet, Adjust

Forfar Athletic

At Glebe Park the hills descend, Where Forfar Athletic’s colours blend— A shirt of blue, a splash of white, They chase the ball from dawn till night. The supporters raise a steady

Grape

In the quiet vineyard's hush, a cluster clings, Purple jewels that sigh with summer's song, Each grape a tiny globe of sun‑kissed rings, Bursting sweet, a nectar that prolongs The taste of earth, a

Celtic

Mists rise from the ancient hills, Where stone‑circles guard forgotten songs, Bards whisper in a tongue that still Sings of warriors, lovers, and throngs. Heather‑clad moors wear emerald cloaks, Rivers carve verses through

Aloha

Aloha drifts across the sapphire sea, A gentle hush that kisses sun‑kissed sand. In every wave I hear the island’s plea – To share a smile, a warm, embracing hand. Here, under

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