Poetry

Scoot

Scoot Morning light slips through the blinds, and I feel the urge to scoot, feet light as sparrows on the pavement, the world a blur of pastel houses. I push my

Viper

In sun‑baked stones the viper lies, A coiled secret of emerald eyes. Its scales like tarnished copper gleam, A whispered threat in desert’s dream. It flicks a tongue, a silver thread, Tasting the

Yahoo

Yahoo! – a shout that springs from mirth, A burst of joy that fills the earth. From Swift’s wild beasts to web‑bright gleam, The word still rides on laughter’s stream. In every cheek‑y grin

Slide

On the playground’s gentle rise, A metal tongue of bright steel, Where laughter hums beneath the skies, And children’s feet begin to feel The thrill of motion, swift and free, A whisper of

Motor

In the hush of dawn the motor sighs, A restless heart of steel and chrome, It drinks the petrol, warm and wise, And turns the world into its home. Cogs turn like

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