In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk
“The Conversion of Saul” by Michelangelo, Pauline Chapel fresco, Vatican City.
This “I” we each inherit, made spine
of the world, axis, pole,
look-out from the world’s helm
gazing on the universe,
gazing on you,
gazing on death…
“Mummy,” I said,
seven or eight years old,
“I have decided
that I am God.”
We were walking east
along Glebe Road
towards the… Continue reading West of Caritas
This short poem was written more than ten years ago.
Kenwood is a fine mansion on the northern edge of Hampstead Heath, London. It and its grounds are managed by English Heritage and open to the public. It is a deservedly popular… Continue reading Kenwood in May
Here is a link to a poem about the poet D.J. Enright and his French wife, the artist Madeleine Enright. (See one of her pictures, above). They belonged in worlds quite foreign to me, but in the last few months of their lives, I chanced to… Continue reading Facing West over a Small Field
Here is another poem of loss and it’s called “The Widow” (the title links to it). I wrote it some years ago, in sorrow for the grief of the person concerned, but also in awe at how she voiced her bereavement, the words she reached for, and… Continue reading The Widow
The prose piece that follows begins with the mismatch in the UK, between the present Prime Minister’s relative popularity on the one hand, and his long established disregard for the Nolan Principles of ethical conduct on the other. The piece provides a reminder that our Prime Minister has… Continue reading The Lying Toad is Back, the Tousled Look, the Winning Smirk, Our Leader...
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… Continue reading Poems in Memoriam in Time for Lent
This piece returns to a preoccupation of my own, concerning language. What is the point of writing, the point of taking a position and then articulating it ?
And of course that leads to the question, why keep writing these stanzas, these mere words amid all the bizarre and frantic… Continue reading The Caged Parrot Watches the Demons Dance
I know that, in writing this, I was remembering a scene from an early “Star Wars” film. An ominous planet approaches. And I remember that image occurring to me, when I came across a book by Iain McGilchrist called “The Master and His Emissary – The Divided Brain and… Continue reading A Brexiter Takes Stock of the Dark Star
“Augustin Doing Life” is the title of a poem I wrote eight years ago. The Augustin of the title is Augustin Robespierre, younger brother of the much better known and also more fanatical Maximilien Robespierre, both swept along by the upheavals of the French Revolution, and quite… Continue reading Augustin Doing Life
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In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk
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