Poetry

Valid

Valid In the hush of morning light, a thought takes shape, A quiet certainty that steadies the heart— Not loud, not flashy, but true as the tide’s soft lap, It whispers that

Howdy

Howdy, mate, the morning’s gold Spills over hills where stories unfold, A tip‑of‑the‑hat to passing folk, A cheery word and friendly joke. We share a cuppa, strong and sweet, Biscuits crumbling beneath our

Vigor

Vigour blooms like sunrise on the hill, A steady pulse that drives the will, It courses through each limb and breath, A lively spark that mocks fatigue and death. In morning’s crisp,

Dandy

Upon the cobblestones of Regent Street he sways, A dandy in his tweed and polished brogue, With cufflinks catching London's hazy days, His cravat a whisper of aristocratic vogue. He sips his

Bough

Beneath the canopy’s soft, leafy sigh, A lone bough stretches, brave and high, Its twigs like fingers clutch the sky, Whispering tales as breezes drift‑by. In autumn’s hush it dons a crown Of

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