Poetry

Hovel

In the hush of the vale’s faded light, A humble hovel clings to the hill, Its thatched roof sighs with the wind’s soft spite, While ivy weaves a quiet thrall. Through cracked

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

Plead

In the hushed courtroom where the oak beams sigh, A voice shall plead, a low, beseeching cry. With trembling hands upon the worn‑worn rail, The defendant leans, his hope a fragile veil.

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

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

• The Friday Fun British Test
• Dilbert Archives