Poetry

Harland & Wolff Welders

Harland & Wolff Welders In Belfast’s dock where Harland & Wolff looms, The welders raise their arms against the steel, With oxy‑acetylene’s bright blue plumes, They trace each seam where mighty hulls

Sworn

Sworn Upon the misty hills of Devon's green, I took an oath, a pledge both deep and true, To guard the heather, stone, and ancient scene, Where sheep in silent flocks the morning chew.

Envoy

Envoy In quiet halls of stone and brass, An envoy walks with measured tread, A messenger whose whispered grass Carries the weight of words unsaid. From Westminster’s austere lobby To distant courts where monsoons

Stirling Albion

Stirling Albion Och, the Binos take the field at Annfield’s humble ground, Where black and white hoops flash like the Wallace Monument’s stone, A chorus of scarf‑wrapped voices rises from the town, Echoing over

Sandy

Sandy Not golden, not quite brown, but soft and grand, A thousand tiny stones slipped through your hand. It clings to toes, a persistent, gritty trace, Found where the sea kissed the sun-warmed space.

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