Poetry

Lion

The Lion In crescent light, the savannah stretches wide, a kingdom where the wind turns every blade of grass into a hymn sung in the silence of a primor­nal dawn. The lion – king

Stank

The Stank on the Corner When the rain pours down the city’s pale‑grey streets, a damp hush settles over every false‑wood corner. The black‑clad lorry’s exhaust hisses, giving its domestic catharsis to the air

Song of the Sea

Song of the Sea In winter's hush when the masts are trimmed, the waves recite a rhyme in salt‑sprayed hymns, a tune that pulls the tide past cloistered rocks, and all the while the

The Princess Bride

A Tale as Tender as the Dawn In the quiet of the Sunday garden, Father speaks, His voice a crackling camp‑fire glow, Lifting the rose‑blossomed map of a far‑off land, Where Buttercup walks in

Hoist

The Hoist’s Quiet Dialogue By the edge of the Thames, at dusk’s pale‑golden bend, the iron belly of colligated steel rolls awake, sling‑odd iron‑links humming a low‑key chord. These quiet towers, in a half‑dark

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