Poetry

Tibia

In the quiet scaffold of the leg, the tibia stands—slim, yet steadfast— a column of ivory, guiding each step with quiet purpose. Its slender shaft, a polished bone, runs from knee to ankle, bearing

Lofty

Lofty thoughts ascend like spires of stone, Piercing the cerulean veil where clouds have flown. They crown the hills with quiet, amber grace, And lift the soul to a serene, thin place. In every

Whoop

Whoop In the misty glade where the heather sighs, A sudden whoop breaks the twilight air – A call that climbs over fells and sky, Like a stag’s proud bellow, fierce and fair. Children on

Inter

Inter In the quiet hush of morning light, thoughts interlace like river streams— each ripple a whisper, each eddy a sigh, weaving patterns that no eye can see. Hands reach across

Irony

Today I vow to shun all guise, To speak plain truth, no tricks, no lies. My words shall be direct and clear, Devoid of any smirk or sneer, A beacon of sincerity, Unmarred by falsefinity. Yet

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