In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk
Click here for a summary of this piece, consisting of just over 700 words.
Are You Sitting Comfortably ?
The history of the United Kingdom (whose every seam is under terrible stretch and strain just now) continues so fast, so scattered, so hurt, so incoherent, so unguided and ill-advised, that it is hard… Continue reading The History of the United Kingdom
I cannot just argue or disagree
when my own country decides
to throw itself into the sea.
If Britain is an oak centuries old,
then I am a leaf somewhere to one side,
barely visible and increasingly wrinkled.
But the great tree’s nature… Continue reading Lament at UK Election time 2017
We don’t know any more
where our lives belong
or even where to hide.
The walls of home
hold nothing up
or out
and the door hangs slack
on the hinge.
Where have our lives gone ?
I consult the… Continue reading The Flotsam of Frantic Dreams
Let’s recall the film “High Noon,” that great Western. The outlaw and his hoodlum cronies are riding into town. They want revenge on the sheriff, the keeper of the law. The sheriff scours the town looking for support, a posse of townspeople who will help him defend their community from the outlaws. The townspeople know… Continue reading High Noon this Easter
The “Rough Beast” is a phrase from “The Second Coming” by YB Yeats. Written in 1919, it is a poem that becomes more topical with each passing day.
The last three lines of the poem above are a deliberate reference… Continue reading The Rule of the Rough Beast
I run a charity called “Hyphen-21”. The charity holds and manages funding for a project which publishes bilingual poem-posters. Since the Spring of 2017, this project has been called “Poems for …the wall” (before that it was called “Poems for…). Since it first began in 1997, “Poems for…the wall” has been funded by the UK… Continue reading Rome Burning
I come in fear. The wheels, the stuttering engine,
By road or wave; the endless killing payments.
Bit by bit, my mind returns to rubble.
You come in fear. The hunched back, failed bravado,
They make me squirm. You have no place here, brother;
Get back, for you… Continue reading BALLAD OF REFUGE by David Punter
Hatred
is wanting
to hurt
and its fulfillment
dancing
on someone’s grave.
Because the insult was grave,
I must repay hatred with hatred,
abandon all pleasure: the dancing,
the flirting, the wallowing wantings
of every day. How drab their fulfillment
Copyright © Rogan Wolf – Poet and Social Worker
In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk
Built on Notes Blog Core
Powered by WordPress
