Poetry

Crazy

Crazy — a kaleidoscope of thoughts, Spinning like a top in a summer bazaar, Where reason tiptoes on the edge of madness, And sanity wears a polka‑dot scarf. In the garden of

Outdo

In the hush of morning, I try to outdo the sunrise, To paint the sky with colours brighter than any neighbour’s dream, Each breath a challenge, each step a quiet vow to

Abase

When pride is stripped and honour’s crown is bowed, We watch the mighty sink, their spirits subdued. To abase a soul is to pull the bright sky low, To drag the lofty mountain

Stool

On a low, wooden stool I perch, Its sturdy legs a humble church Of quiet thought and steady grace, A simple seat in time and space. It bears the weight of weary

Crust

A slice of pie, its crust a golden lace, holds within a spiced apple flavour, each flake a whisper of buttered labour, cracking like dawn over a sleepy village.

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