Poetry

Plane

Silent wings upon the sky, An aeroplane carves the blue, Leaving vapour threads that sigh, As sunrise paints the world anew. Engines hum a steady tune, Over fields of verdant green, Through cotton clouds

Civil

In quiet streets where lanterns gleam, A civil hush begins to dream, Where neighbours share a soft‑spoken word, And courteous gestures are not blurred. The town hall stands with modest pride, Its stone

Drape

In the hush of the old theatre, a heavy drape hangs solemn and still, its velvet folds a deep, muted colour, waiting for the curtain’s quiet thrill. It sways with the breath

Coven

In the hush of midnight’s velvet veil, A coven gathers ’neath the silvered moon, Their cloaks a rustle like autumn’s pale, Voices weaving ancient tune. Hands entwined, they trace the sigil’s seam, Chanting

Graft

Graft In quiet rooms where surgeons mend, A needle pierces, thread will blend— A piece of skin, a sliver taken, From donor’s flesh, a life awoken. The graft takes hold, a silent pact, New

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