Poetry
Sheep
The Quiet Wool On the mist‑kissed moor the sheep do preen, Their coats a soft, bewildering sheen. Golden stalks bend beneath the shade, While the shepherd’s whistle makes a sonnet‑glade. The lambs parade
Read more →Magnolia
In the hushed garden of Kew A stately magnolia stands, its bark a rough, variegated vein, flower buds swelling like dawn’s first blush— a whisper of summer in earnest brine. The leaves, pale
Read more →The Pursuit of Happyness
The Pursuit of Happyness On a quiet cobblestone street, where summer smells of clotted‑cream and the amber‑tinted sky of a late‑afternoon, I set out for a dream. Not with the grandiose umbrella of
Read more →Theft
Theft In the quiet of a London street, where late‑night buses hiss and novelists retreat, a shadow slips through the damp and drizzle, his fingers cold against the pulse of a wallet's drizzle. It is
Read more →The Martian
In the quiet twilight of a desert sky, I hear the wind speak in a tongue of iron, Its sighs a cracked old poem, written across the dust and stone, lined in the colour
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