Category history

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

So where have we got to, so far, in 2021 ?

  So where have we got to, so far, in the year 2021 ?  Locked in, locked down, sundered from outer family – again. And everywhere, the virus and its effects, spreading yet further, pressing wider and deeper.  The masked face, still – and ever increasingly – the image of our time. In the US, a few days ago, that enormous… continue reading

Let’s Hear it from Janus on the Union

The Roman god Janus had two heads, two faces. They are usually depicted as looking in opposite directions. And the UK has a Gaffe man and a lying Toad for Prime Minister. He says, “Call me Boris” but perhaps “Call me Janus” would ring a little truer. And those two heads are not only turned in opposite directions – all… continue reading

What a Funny Time to say Goodbye to the Chaos Maistro

So now, suddenly, it’s off with his head, the maestro, that shiny hate-filled spear-head of Brexit. He conducted his own removals, exiting through the front door of course, in full view of the cameras, delivering insult to the last. Not so long ago, a raucous parrot I know, a “bird of paradise” who insists on the liberty to speak, had… continue reading

The Beast Outside the Citadel

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Wild Honey UK 2020

  This poem above is actually a very loose translation of “Wild Honey” by the great Russian poet Anna Akhmatova.  The slightly altered title here is an acknowledgement of just how loose the translation is. The poem’s original was written (I think) in 1933. Stalin had been in power for around a decade and his purges were beginning. I do not… continue reading

The Gaze Blank and Pitiless

WB Yeats’ poem “The Second Coming” was written almost exactly a century ago, but if it’s possible for a poem to become truer still with age, then surely this one does. And yet…Yeats wrote his poem in 1919, in the aftermath of the First World War and the beginning of the Irish War of Independence (he was Irish). The poem… continue reading

West of Caritas

“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… continue reading

A Sentence Called Humanity

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Steps

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

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