Poetry

Boast

In the market square he stands, chest out, voice loud, A trumpeter of triumph, his tale unbowed. He boasts of climbs no mountain ever saw, Of riches piled like clouds in a summer’s

Boxer

In the dim-lit gym where leather meets sweat, A boxer laces up his trusted gloves, Each breath a rhythm, each heartbeat a metronome, Preparing for the dance within the squared ring. He

Flung

Flung like a seed from a stubborn pod, Through summer air it twirls, un‑hinged, A scatter of hope on wind‑kissed sod, Where laughter clings and doubts are binge. It lands where shadows

Shove

Shove In the rush‑hour tube, a stranger’s elbow gives a soft shove, A brief, polite nudge that says, “Make room, please.” On the pavement, a child’s pram receives a careful shove

Endow

Endowed with quiet grace, she walks the lane, A gift bestowed by dawn’s soft, amber gleam— No gaudy fanfare, but a steady strain That hums beneath the chestnut’s dreaming stream. The village

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