Poetry

White

White – the quiet page turned at dawn, the pale mountain mist that drifts over Dover, the chalk that writes the horizon in a brittle script. It is the hush between the crackle

Myrrh

A Psalm of Myrrh Golden‑brown, the ancient resin glows, from ancient dunes of Arava it grows; Its forest‑hushed fragrance rises high over the chapel’s incense‑kissed sky. In the choir of the desert’s dance, the

Rugby

On Green Pastures In the dawn‑lit green of the empire’s game, A clash begins where the ball is the claim. The packing of the scrum, a tightening knot, Masses of strength, a line‑out’s faint,

Finding Nemo

Finding Nemo Beneath the blue veil of the Southern Sea, Marlin, the anxious clownfish, swims with glee— His tiny heart in a world of vast, wondrous hue, Where every reef’s a cathedral, and the

Grass

In the quiet hours when the world is still, A blade of green unfurls with quiet thrill. Soft as a whisper, light as silver dew, It remembers every breath the cool air blew. Beneath

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