Poetry

Chaos

In the hush before the storm, Chaos unfurls its wild refrain, A tapestry torn where order’s torn, Yet beauty hides in fractured pain. Colours clash in reckless dance, Thoughts collide like thunder’s roar, From

Skier

On frosted pistes she carves her line, A silent dance upon the white, Each turn a breath of alpine air, Her skis whisper like pine. The lift hums low, a steady song, She

Bevel

On the quiet bench where timber sighs, A bevel waits, a slanted whisper, Its edge—soft‑cut, a gentle rise— Turns plain board into light‑kissed glister. In joiner’s hand the plane does glide, Shaving off

Briny

Briny whispers kiss the tide’s edge, Where salt‑kissed waves caress the shore, A lover’s sigh in sapphire pledge, The ocean’s breath forevermore. In rocky coves the gulls do cry, Their wings aloft in

Stall

In the market’s hushed morning light, A wooden stall stands patient, bright, Its canvas awning, striped in blue, Shelters wares both old and new. Apples gleam like polished stone, Loaves of crusty bread

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