Poetry
Logan
On the green of the lane where the old hedgerows stand, Lives a young lad named Logan, with a heart so grand. He strolls beneath the oaks, where leeks grow in the
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The Sound of Music In a garden where the morning mist roams, the air is draped with a muted, silver dome. A piano, tired of birch‑trimmed shafts, whispers its chords, breaking dawn’s soft drafts.
Read more →Before Sunset
Before Sunset At the lip of the evening the day gives up a trembling green, the blue‑shaped cloud quivers – The Thames, in its forgotten silence, rubs a blue‐white hand over the old stone. A
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Hotel Rwanda In Kigali’s blue dusk, where the hills hold their breath, the Hôtel de la Reine—its bronze doors heavy as a relic— stood silent, a fortress of copper and hope, its
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The Terminator – a Machine of Tomorrow, a Silence of Yesterday In the dusk‑tinted glow of a London street, the hum of night‑mail machines once darting between mild fog, a chrome‑clad figure strides—an
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