Category ecology

Still the Parrot Paces

In the third stanza of “Speak, Parrot” by John Skelton, you’ll find these lines : “With my bekė bent, my little wanton eye,/ My feathers fresh as is the emerald green,/About my neck a circulet like the rich ruby,/ my little leggės, my feet both feat and clean,/ I am a minion to wait upon a queen…” Amen to the… continue reading

A Brexiter Takes Stock of the Dark Star

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 the Making of the Western World.” The distance between our two… continue reading

Parrot Counts the Cost of Youth

It struck me hard yesterday, that issues that are dominating our lives (or at least mine – unhealthily so)  – such as Trumplestiltskin in America, Brexitosis in the UK – appalling both – are actually just inexcusable distractions from issues and crisis far larger and more important – for instance global warming and mass extinctions of species, and so on.… continue reading

Dust

The poem I’m publishing here foresees the end of the world. The false god Me n’ Mine has too many worshippers to be withstood. Besides Greed, the angel which serves Me n’ Mine most faithfully is the Lie and it is the Lie by which the false god rules and will destroy us all.   In the beginning was the… continue reading

Naming the Beast of the Year

  This beast has our country’s contours written all over it. It has leapt from out of the ruins of the city, those hollow squares, and from the great labrynth below ground where the thread got tangled, and from the wi-fi and the wires through which we do not speak but intone like digital toys or just snarl, just howl.… continue reading

Autumn UK 2016

  Today our skies evicted the swallow and the swift was banished weeks ago and in Dorset the house martin whose tiny mud globes once crammed the eaves was simply absent all year.   And last week Putin, unrestrained, bombed hospitals in Aleppo and Trump continued his debasing of America and Theresa May declared the date of Britain’s embrace of… continue reading

Wrestling with my Shadow

  My shadow dogs my path. It dwarfs me, this daemon, this desolate god. Could I live shadow-free ? Would I fly ? What would be left of me ?   Here are some more thoughts on the shadow :   First Sightings   I can say this with real pride : no one but I throws my shadow.  … continue reading

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

Built on Notes Blog Core
Powered by WordPress