Poetry

Leyton Orient

Brisbane Road on a Saturday grey, Where the Lea's slow sigh meets the terrace fray. Old brick stands watch as the kick-off nears, The O's take the field through the passing years.

Chelsea

Chelsea’s blue unfurls beneath the London sky, A river of supporters chanting in the stands, Stamford Bridge awash with hope and pride, Where every tackle writes a brave new chant. The kit,

Vocal

In the hush of morning, a vocal thread Weaves through the mist, a soft, uneven spread— A neighbour’s hum from the flat upstairs, A lorry’s low growl on the wet‑cobbled stairs. She

Poem for Silt Awareness Day

On Silt Awareness Day we gather, To honour the quiet grains that slither, Through river bends and quiet streams, They paint the water with subtle schemes. The silt, a humble traveller, Carries stories

Yes, I Know It's Called 'Petrichor'

Yes, I Know It’s Called ‘Petrichor’ The clouds have wept and left their trace, A silver hush upon the chase, And from the thirsty, cracked earth’s breast A fragrant sigh is now

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