Poetry
Bleat
In the hush of a first‑light pasture, the old‑timed bleat flutters over sheaf‑filled loam – a lilting knock‑out of a lamb’s thin plea, singing the county’s taste of crook’d green. It echoes from the
Read more →12 Angry Men
The Twelve in the Room A square of a classroom‑bar, so stark and still, the fire‑escape’s iron tie—cold to the wind. Three‑quarter‑not‑quite as “fingers‑crossed”, the men sit, faces unknowingly split by a case. It begins
Read more →Pulp Fiction
Pulp Fiction in a Colourful Grain In a quiet diner, two men sit for a bite, One tilts his camera, the other watches light. The conversation drifts in waves—“What’s the name of your
Read more →Gavel
The Gavel’s Quiet Would In the hush of the old courthouse, the gavel lies in shadow, wood‑brown pew, its handle, worn by gentle touch, echoing past tales of law’s firm pew. Its face,
Read more →Forrest Gump
Forrest Gump In a quiet corner of a cinema’s programme, where the screen flickers like a summer window, a story unfurls with a heart that beats so true— the gentle march of a man,
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