Tag: poems
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A Modest Proposal: The Scottish Premier Superleague
Scotland has always been a nation of innovators.We gave the world penicillin, television, and the deep‑fried haggis ball.So why not gift the world our next great breakthrough:a Premier Superleague consisting of exactly two teams, Rangers and Celtic, locked in eternal, city‑levelling combat. It’s not punishment.It’s enrichment.For them.For us.For the emergency services. After all, no other…
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1337 Day Streak on NoRerolls
Today, I hit a daily posting streak over on NoRerolls. 1337 days! That tickled me, and I thought I’d just put something here to commemorate… 1337: Skill Issue 1337 days in a row; a number that screams “pro,”even though my actual strategyis justdon’t stop postingand hope no one noticesI have no build order. Skill issue?Absolutely.But…
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The Winding Song
A clockwork bird with rusted wings,Decided it would try to sing.Not for the gears, or the winding key,But just to know what it’s like to be. It didn’t chirp of gold or grain,But whistled softly of the rain,And found that even a heart of tin,Can hold a world of wonder in.
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Maybe May
By May, the world has stopped pretendingit’s still waking up.Everything is suddenly louder;the grass, the light,even the shadows seem more certainof where they belong. The days stretch themselves thin,testing how far they can reachbefore the sky snaps back.Blossom gathers in cornerslike someone sweeping beautyinto careless piles. And you feel it tug at you;that quiet insistenceto…
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Inheritance Without a Future
Some days it feels like the countryhas been left in the airing cupboard too long.It’s all starch and mothballs and ruleswritten in handwriting no one under forty can read. Every policy arrives pre‑creased,smelling faintly of “back in my day,”designed for people who bought houseswhen houses still cost the price of a decent sofa. We queue…
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Homeward
We’re all walking each other home,even when we don’t realise it;in the way we hold a doorwithout thinking,or offer a smilethat lands softer than we meant. In the way a stranger’s kindnesscan reroute an entire afternoon,or a friend’s messagearrives at the exact momentyour courage starts to wobble. Most of the timewe don’t see the threads…
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Casual Catastrophes
We scroll past disasterslike they’re mild inconveniences,as if the world were a feedand suffering just another postwe’re too tired to tap. The sky can be burning,the seas rearranging coastlines,and still we flick our thumbs,half‑bored, half‑numb,waiting for somethingthat feels more like contentand less like consequence.
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An Age of Cheap Outrage
Outrage is on sale everywhere,stacked high in the bargain bins,brightly packaged, easy to grab. Understanding sits on the top shelf,unlabelled, unadvertised,requiring a ladder no one bothers to fetch. So we keep choosing the thingthat costs nothing upfrontand everything later.
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The Chair
It started when someone brought a new chairto the kitchen table.Nothing unusual, just a spare seatpulled in from the shed,a little wobbly,one leg shorter than the others.We joked about it.We made do.It was only a chair. But over time, people began sitting differentlywhen they ended up in it;backs straighter,voices tighter,sentences trimmed downto the safe parts.No…