Poetry
Hovel
In the quiet hush of a cobble‑strewn lane A humble hovel stands, weathered but true, Its roof, a patchwork of blue‑tinted slate, And the wind, it whistles what it will through the woodwork. Within
Read more →Colic
The Quiet Storm There is a thing, a quiet thunder that swallows sleep A little body, shivering on a sofa’s edge, A gasp of air that turns to ache, a desperate weeping, A soft-breath
Read more →Always keep away from children
Always Keep Away From Children Handle with care, the elders say— Some dreams are sharp, some words can fray. A spark of thought, a restless flame, Not every fire should feed a game. For children
Read more →Donald Trump
The Hair That Would Not Yield There once was a man with a style, Whose hair seemed to stretch half a mile. It swirled like a crown, Never quite settling down— A meteor caught in
Read more →Motorcycles
In a lane of thrum and humming steel, The motorcycle sings, a freedom‑anointed wheel. Its chrome‑kissed hood against the wind’s bright blur, A pair of riders – two souls, a lone piper. The clutch‑lever
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