Poetry

Marty Supreme

Ode to Marty Supreme Marty Supreme, of biscuit-tin renown, Whose kingdom’s sealed in cardboard, worn and brown. He lines the custard creams in perfect rows, A general who o’er the shortbread throws His

Amply

Amply The hedgerows stretch their limbs over the summer’s long day, the hedgerows sigh, “I get it – give me amply, you’ll see,”* the breeze whistles through the orchards, a spiced‑oats melt, and a

Clasp

In the hush of a gallery where the past unfurls, There sits a brass clasp, where old maps guard their pearls. Its tiny teeth, though aged, keep the paper calm, Like a fingers’

Drama

Evening in the Theatre The evening air hums with whispered hope as the curtains sigh, A tug of colour on the velvet canvas, a foreshadowing of the drama that will unfurl.

Grade

In the bright glass of the school’s grade‑book, the numbers write themselves like magnets pulled. A four, a five, a six – the kingdom of decrees; each mark a crown for the chessboard

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