In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk
I want to talk about the British Labour Party which – despite everything – still occupies the ground I look to for the beginning of this nation’s regeneration and return to health.
But “ground” is one thing ; the withered and stunted vegetation I see presently over-running and littering… Continue reading Britain's Return to Health
Our race has re-made the world to be a reflection of our own chaotic inner lives and processes. We’ve fashioned our environment in such a way that it has become our self-portrait (if we dare to look). Perhaps we see ourselves for the first time, when we look… Continue reading Cat Vies with Hard Drive for my Soul
Semantics – the study of words and their meanings – is an important subject, after all. I used to hang back from it as being peripheral, academic, finickity, pedantic. But now, especially in this era when the Lie is so greatly in the ascendant, I see more… Continue reading What does “Advisor” mean in Toadland ?
The stanza was written and uploaded on the day the UK left the EU, January 31st, 2020. The picture is of a tower built in Victorian times in belated tribute to the great William Tyndale. It stands on the edge… Continue reading Where the Hoodlums Are
Around the world, the hoodlums and outlaws are running amok, in their suits of armour made of lies. By contrast, the sheriffs seem downcast, overwhelmed and on the run. I feel downcast and overwhelmed, too. Might it mean that I’m a sheriff, in disguise ? But there is no star in my cupboard.
The picture I… Continue reading High Noon is Nearly Upon Us. Where's the Sheriff ?
Some of the more ardent Tory Brexiters seem very exercised that, after all, Big Ben will not be breaking into song when the UK vacates the EU and seeks alternative residence in their delinquent yet decrepit Brexit wonderland.
And the lying Mr Toad, our bouncy new Prime Minister, is coming… Continue reading Toad and the Bong
This stanza was written on the day after Mr Johnson’s election victory on December 12th, 2019. It will be the last stanza of “Parrot Addenda,” rounding off this series of 164 stanzas. It does not mean the Brexit story is over… Continue reading Parrot's in his Tower - and That's All, Folks
And this piece was written on election night, a second night of pause and waiting, with the chill moon again prominent and beautiful overhead. We walked home after casting our votes, our act tiny power, our tiny power of action. We had done what we could, and put our very… Continue reading The Casting of the Parrot's Vote
I wrote this stanza the night before the UK General Election on December 12th. In my part of the country, the moon was very clear that cold December night, and had been for several nights. If not full, then very nearly so.
The electorate had a profoundly disheartening choice and a… Continue reading The Parrot Looks Up at the Moon
Thinking of the election due later this coming week, and of the likeliest result, I fear for the parrot. “He speaks all languages aptly,” wrote Skelton, implying that the parrot hears everything and can keep nothing out. So what will be swirling about in his brain by Friday morning ?… Continue reading UK Election - Parrot Prognosis
Copyright © Rogan Wolf – Poet and Social Worker
In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk
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