Category Dominic Cummings

Word Play

“What is the purpose of poetry ?” I ask myself. Sometimes I find this question simple to answer. And sometimes the answer itself  is simple. The purpose of poetry is to work.… continue reading

I See Everywhere the False

I thought this was true in 2014, when it was written. I did not know then that the truth can become truer.… continue reading

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

Might Labour be the Force to Renew UK Politics ?

Our democratic politics isn’t working and, in my view, its dysfunction is one of the major causes of our present national crisis. In so many ways, our political structures and democratic processes – not just here in the UK, but manifestly in other countries too – are under attack and also in question. We have to renew them, not just… continue reading

Anthem for a Lying Toad

The UK’s Brexit government have been showing us their true mettle in recent weeks. Following their disastrous response to the Covid-19 virus, they are itching to move on to enterprises more to their liking, but equally vulnerable to their incompetence. It has been said that “The Sleep of Reason Brings Forth Monsters” (it’s the title of an etching by Goya).… continue reading

I Send Greetings from this Place

  The place I’m thinking of this evening is called St Aldhelm’s Chapel, pictured above. It is a small and simple Norman structure built right on the edge of a Dorset cliff, facing out over the English Channel and beyond that to Europe. The chapel has no electricity and the interior is dark. It has just one small and narrow window… continue reading

The Widow

  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 the way she flung them out, time and again, to her… continue reading

A White Shirt Writ Large in the Rose Garden

Dear MP’s Office Manager, Thank you for your earlier response and yes, please, I would like to hear the Cabinet Office’s response to your news, that by the 26th May you had already received 1500 emails concerning Mr Cummings. I need to report that the responses I’ve heard so far have just left me brimming over with yet more outrage,… continue reading

The Lying Toad is Back, the Tousled Look, the Winning Smirk, Our Leader…

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 previously been sacked twice for lying  and it recommends (again) that lying… 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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