Poetry

Eject

Eject From the seat of steel, a sudden thrust, A hiss of gas, a sigh of dust— The world outside the cockpit blurs, As forces pull and adrenaline stirs. In the

Tepid

In the kitchen’s quiet hour, the kettle sighs a tepid hum, its steam a shy, reluctant plume that drifts across the chilly floor. A cup of tea, half‑warmed, half‑cool, holds the colour of

Happy

In sun‑kissed mornings, laughter bubbles bright, A gentle hum that lifts the heart’s delight. The world awash in golden, warm repose, Where worries melt like frost before the rose. Hands clasp in

Itchy

Itchy—like a summer breeze that teases the skin, A whisper of irritation, a mischievous grin. It crawls over shoulders, down arms, and between toes, A restless reminder that something softly glows. Scratch

Prime

In the quiet hush of number’s line, Prime stands tall, a solitary sign— A lone integer, indivisible, pure, Its only friends are one and itself, for sure. From two’s first whisper to

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