Poetry

Joker

The Joker's Riddle In London’s misty lanes I hear a laugh, A cackling echo that no Londoner can halt. Not a clown of court, but mortal’s worst delight, A mind unravelling under the city’s

Eight

In the quiet quiet of a London evening’s glow, I count the eight brass‑band notes that swell, Each rung a promise, each hymn a gentle oath— A rhythm of a town where bargains

The Apartment

The Apartment In the middle of the city’s restless hum there sits a small three‑storey block, brick on brick, and within one of its steel‑frame bones there is a hatch, a narrow door that

Requiem for a Dream

Requiem for a Dream (in the hush of a dream‑worn night) In a quiet flat where light flickers low, the echo of a promise lies in shadow, every hopeful breath a brittle candle, the colour

Blast

A Blast It burst into the county lane on a cotton‑cloud day, a sudden, aching boom that rattled the church spire and nipped the lawn‑mower. Smoke curled like the smoke of

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