Poetry

Paths of Glory

Paths of Glory In twilight’s hush the old cobbles gleam, their ancient veins of stone lay strewn with dreams— the lanes that poets dare to trace when light upon their arches takes the place

Sumac

Sumac In the quiet garden, beneath the oaks, the sumac bend, a slender, coppery sweep, where dust of golden wax alights the dirt, and every leaf holds a promise of warm spice. It grows in

The Great Dictator

The Great Dictator In the cobbled lanes of old Blighty, where the hum of trams rattles like tinsel, a tyrant O’Gobble’s coat of velvet green drifts through the market, a defiant sheen. Rising

The Shining

The Shining Beneath the frosted veil of winter’s breath the Overlook looms, A grand, ivy‑clad ruin sat on a platform of white, Its windows a faceted crown of coloured silence, A cage for nothing

Fiery

Fiery In the quiet glow of the night‑time hearth, a spark – a flick – a wild flash of colour breaks the hush, and the air tastes of cinnamon. It breathes, a

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