Poetry

Mound

Mound Upon the quiet field, a mound does rise, A gentle hump where earth and whispers meet. It cradles secrets of forgotten times, A silent watcher 'neath the changing skies. Children clamber up

Aston Villa

Claret and blue, the colours of pride, At Villa Park where hopes reside, The Holte End roars, a loyal tide, Singing for the Villans far and wide. From Witton’s lanes to Birmingham’s

Intel

In silicon halls where circuits hum, Intel's quiet pulse, a steady drum. From wafer thin to thought's bright gleam, It weaves the dreams of modern dream. Each transistor, a whispered thought, In British labs, by

Stop the boats

Against the horizon’s stubborn gleam, Where gulls wheel over restless seas, A plea drifts on the salty breeze— To halt the surge, to still the stream. No longer shall the tides bear

Blood

In ruby tides the veins do flow, A quiet pulse beneath the skin, Haemoglobin carries life’s soft glow, Each beat a whisper, deep within. It stains the cloth, it marks the ground, Yet in its

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