Poetry

Rehab

Rehab In the hushed corridors of the centre, light falls soft on linoleum, a steady rhythm of footsteps— each one a promise to the self that tomorrow will be gentler than the bruises of yesterday. Therapists in

Hamnet

Upon the quiet fields of Stratford’s air, A boy named Hamnet did his tender years Spend ’neath the elm, where sunlight caught his hair, And laughter rang like chimes in summer’s sphere. Yet fever

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’

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