In sunburnt suburbs,:
In sunburnt suburbs, evenings once drew us onto the back verandah—
As life sped up, those moments slipped away, leaving quiet spaces
where laughter and ritual once lived.
I’ve captured that gentle fading in verse—
What family tradition have you quietly let slip,
and how does its absence still resonate for you?
A cold bench, a flake of:
A cold bench, a flake of sodium, and a child’s trembling curiosity
—here begins the moment precision and unpredictability fuse.
This poem traces how a playful experiment with alkali and water
became the spark that fractured glass and forged an inner blaze.
What memory sticks out to you, in the laboratory of your childhood?
In hindsight though, we do: In hindsight though, we do realise what happened toward the "crypt scene" and the vials. Not sure what to make of the notion of protection but at that age "our naive understanding" made us invincible and rough-and-ready for anything we put our mind to.
In “Hearth of Inward Flam:
In “Hearth of Inward Flame,” the grandest bursts of fire fold back into embered stillness
—phoenix wings nesting in coal, supernovas sighing into stardust, solar flares recoiling into quiet warmth.
Which inward spark ignited something in you—the smouldering dreams of the phoenix,
the silent sigh of stardust, or the embered hush of fading flares?
I’d love to know which image glowed brightest and
how the promise of new light born from retreat resonated with your own sense of renewal.
I’ve tried to capture the:
I’ve tried to capture the quiet and rhythm of rain falling on a quiet village,
from the mountain’s steadfast ridge to the silver-glinting roofs below.
Which image paused you—the steady drop, the mirrored paths or the waterfall’s measured arc?
How did the repetition shape your reading pace or mood?
I’d love to hear your impressions, questions or even a single word that springs to mind.
—Let’s explore this calm through repetition together.
I’ve woven English:
I’ve woven English reflections on time with Japanese refrains
(ikkoku o arasō, ippun ichibyō o arasō, and more)
to explore each moment’s urgency and value.
Which phrase or image struck you most?
Did the bilingual shifts deepen your sense of time’s fleeting pulse?
I’d love to hear your thoughts, questions or even personal translations.
—Let’s unpack these sparks before they drift to dust.
Here are Caedmon’s Hymn in: Here are Caedmon’s Hymn in three voices: a faithful translation,
a redbrick-style reimagining and a 21st-century canticle that bridges code and cathedral.
Each stanza is meant to echo the same ancient praise in a fresh register.
Which voice speaks loudest for you?
Are there images or lines you’d love to unpack further?
I’m keen to hear your impressions, questions or even playful challenges.
Let’s kick off a conversation around how the eternal meets the digital!
Now this poem is kind of: Now this poem is kind of exciting, in that drifts between the charged world of science and the weight of our judgments.
It follows a mysterious chemist whose experiments spark more than just reactions—and it asks us to pause before we leap to conclusions.
Which moments in the poem echoed for you?
Did any lines make you question how quickly we decide guilt or innocence?
I'd love to hear your interpretations, reactions and any questions it may stir up.
I’m sharing a new poem that: I’m sharing a new poem that dives into our midnight exchanges and the sunrise reflections they spark—no spoilers, just the rhythm of screens and dawn.
Which image or line hit home for you? How do you feel when the glow of your device meets the first light of morning? I’d love to hear your take.
What happens when faith:
What happens when faith meets circuitry, and morning light touches code?
This poetic duo explores the sacred in silicon—one hymn sung in reverent dataflow,
the other a pilgrim's journey through broken grids and storms.
It's a dance between technology and spirituality, movement and stillness.
If you had to choose your sanctuary—digital or elemental—where would you kneel?
Let me know what images or feelings sparked for you.
What do fingerprints,: What do fingerprints, starlight, and digital rituals have in common?
This poem traces intimate topographies—both celestial and personal
—where silence speaks in dashes and the night sky listens.
It’s a meditation on connection, distance, and the ways we navigate the invisible.
I’d love to know what images or feelings surfaced for you—what lines lingered,
what constellations you might add to the map.
This poem weaves phrases like: This poem weaves phrases like “lantern in the fog,” “glinting peaks,” and “breathing seas” into a night sky of emotion and discovery. It’s an invitation to chart our own inner constellations.Which image pulled you into your thoughts? Which line felt like your guiding star? Share below!
Hi, thank you for taking the: Hi, thank you for taking the time to read and comment, I was interested to know what you weren't sure about in lines 1and 4.
i haven't written for a while so probably a bit rusty.
Thank you, StarSpared, for: Thank you, StarSpared, for such a graceful celebration of poetry’s power. Your point about reshaping ancient themes to awaken our jaded sense of wonder strikes straight at the heart of why I write. Vergil’s expansion of Aeneas’s story is the perfect example of how a poet can turn a minor footnote into the bedrock of an entire civilization’s myth. When we spotlight the overlooked, we invite readers to rediscover the roots of their own curiosity and awe. I’m honoured that my work on this site has brought you a blessing of renewed attention to detail.
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