Poetry

Hamnet

Upon the quiet fields of Stratford’s air, A boy named Hamnet did his tender years Spend ’neath the elm, where sunlight caught his hair, And laughter rang like chimes in summer’s sphere. Yet fever

Marty Supreme

Ode to Marty Supreme Marty Supreme, of biscuit-tin renown, Whose kingdom’s sealed in cardboard, worn and brown. He lines the custard creams in perfect rows, A general who o’er the shortbread throws His

Amply

Amply The hedgerows stretch their limbs over the summer’s long day, the hedgerows sigh, “I get it – give me amply, you’ll see,”* the breeze whistles through the orchards, a spiced‑oats melt, and a

Clasp

In the hush of a gallery where the past unfurls, There sits a brass clasp, where old maps guard their pearls. Its tiny teeth, though aged, keep the paper calm, Like a fingers’

Drama

Evening in the Theatre The evening air hums with whispered hope as the curtains sigh, A tug of colour on the velvet canvas, a foreshadowing of the drama that will unfurl.

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