Category culture

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The Death of an Old Man

Yesterday, a grand and often very beautiful funeral was held, following the death of a likeable, shrewd and vivid man. It is of course hard to separate the image we are given of Prince Philip, or ourselves put onto him, from the man he actually was. He surely had a similar problem, himself. Who was he, apart from his public… continue reading

How to Speak in Times of Clamour

A long time ago, I went away to Greece and spent three months there alone in a hut, facing the rock pictured above. By now, I had lived a youth and much of an adulthood and this was a time for reflection, in case I could make some sense of all that living, never to be repeated or recaptured, all… continue reading

The Beast Outside the Citadel

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Counting

This poem seems to follow on a bit from the previous one uploaded here. But whereas I wrote “I Insist my Ribs…” over three years ago, “Counting” has been written in the last few days. I have a vague idea of what was in my mind as I wrote this latest poem. And looking at it now, I’m increasingly seeing… continue reading

Poems in Memoriam in Time for Lent

I am uploading another collection of poems here. I am also adding it to the collections listed down the right hand side of this blog’s home page. “Another” collection, but not a new one. Some of its poems were written several years ago, although every year, I check them over and might revise them. They form a sort of… continue reading

Britain’s Return to Health

  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 that ground, is another. To understand better why the Party is… continue reading

Cat Vies with Hard Drive for my Soul

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 out on the world we have made. And perhaps we choose, or… continue reading

Copyright © Rogan Wolf – Poet and Social Worker
In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk

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