Poetry
In the Name of the Father
In the Name of the Father — a hymn wrought of quiet timber, the cobblestones underfoot remember how the Church of England creaks in pews that whisper “Paterfilio” (though we say “Father” in a gentler
Read more →Snide
On Snide In the London drizzle I hear whispers that coupde‑faint through the polished corridor, a sharp‑tipped tongue dangling from lips that scorn—to be proud, not— but only for the high road, the polite
Read more →Mr. Smith Goes to Washington
Mr. Smith Goes to Washington From a quiet corner of the old country, a young man with a silver spoon of story climbs a span of Atlantic foam, his boots set the rhythm of
Read more →To Be or Not to Be
To Be or Not to Be In the quiet hum of a London street, the winding Thames mirrors the ages, and a lone card‑holder on a curb asks – am I the pulse in
Read more →Gran Torino
Gran Torino In the afternoon’s warm amber flush, the Gran Torino blooms on a dirt‑slick lane, its chrome trim flashing bright like a compass‑rose— a relic that whispers of motoring dreams. The engine breathes a steady,
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