Poetry
GoodFellas
In a city that never sleeps, the nights are lit with shadows long where smokestacks bleed mist. “Goodfellas,” they whisper, a name that’s pure grit, a legend where loyalty and blood are the
Read more →Weigh
On the Old Measure In the quiet cellar of a London house, an iron balance sighs beneath the floor. The brass arms swing, the ears of stone swing out like stiff‑necked, honest ghosts. They say
Read more →Cigar
The Nicely‑Smoked Letter In a quiet corner of a London teahouse, the steam curls like a moody fog of Thames‑bank mist. A gentleman in tweed, a faint smile that lingers— his cigar is the
Read more →Interstellar
Interstellar In the dark heart of the night, a silver trail unfurls – the line of a spacecraft, a silver sweep of dream. The sky is a wide, blue‑soul canvas, a vast, waking
Read more →The Silence of the Lambs
The Silence of the Lambs In the murmour of the evening sky, the meadow lies in quiet estate, golden‑flecked clouds drift on, pale, shy, while lambs lie still, their breaths close‑taught. No chatter, no bell,
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