Poetry

The Godfather

The Godfather – A Quiet Portrait In the dim light of a family’s old parlour, The Don sits by the mantle, measured and still, The colour of his silence veils the power, His love,

Cello

Cello Serenade In the dimming light of a Westminster hall the cello sighs—its pearled, bronze‑bright throat casting a deep, mellow hue like London fog on a rainy day, and every note that lingers in

The Shawshank Redemption

Redemption in the Shawshank Walled‑Garden In the twilight of a dim‑lit cell, Andy clasps a brick whose marks are old, A quiet hope, a quiet spell, The rain upon the chalked wall is told. The

Embed

Embed In the quiet hum of a London café the screen glows—punctuated by a frame that steals its colours, long‑sought grace and slips inside the page like a secret. The heart of a poem, a

The Godfather Part II

Blooded Helix From Coney Island’s cold steel to Sicily’s sun‑baked olive trees, the same ticking blood rides two ceaseless lanes, a double‑layered carob‑brown tale where Vito and Michael meet. The elder, a

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