Poetry
Cacti
A Quiet Bulb of the Sun In a quiet corner of a London greenhouse, the cacti stand—fortress‑like sentries of light, their spines a pale‑gold colour that catches the noon, while I sip tea and
Read more →Monsters, Inc.
Monsters, Inc. – A London‑lingual Ode In the glass‑laden, bass‑drummed heart of the city’s night, A factory stands, lamps flick‑flicking bright. Not a steel‑clad armour of industry— But a cosy workshop of the frightful‑kind. The
Read more →The Deer Hunter
The Deer Hunter In the mist‑laden moor where oaks grow tall, The hunter slips beneath the summer bower, A silhouette against the evening pall, His breath alight with the crisp night’s sower. On
Read more →Leach
The Quiet Leach In the hum of a Yorkshire spring‑cockle, Black loam gleams beneath a speckled heap, A thin‑rim glass of rain is set to creep, And will its silvery tongue through earth aspire.
Read more →The Third Man
The Third Man In the grey‑lit alleys of post‑war Vienna, the city still reeks of steam‑clouded nights, Max and Harry linger in a shared apartment, their shadows long as they chase the lingering tide
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