Category history

The Photograph

“He first deceased : she for a little tried To live without him, liked it not, and died.”     There they stand, those old antagonists, posing at the head of the high-walled city, that vast coronet of ruin.   Above them, the daily familiar blue glare of God’s regard, far beneath them, their radiant Aegean.   Arm in arm they stand and eye… continue reading

Trace a Fraught Frontier

Where’s the fraught frontier between Mercia and East Anglia ? Guards were stationed here gazing out from within. And within was somewhere to die for. And without was someone to kill. I explored it once, that fraught frontier, now footpath between nettles. It was sunday and Cambridge families were out walking there after a good lunch. And where’s the fraught… continue reading

Britain’s Return to Health

  I want to talk about the British Labour Party which – despite everything – still occupies the ground I look to for the beginning of this nation’s regeneration and return to health. But “ground” is one thing ; the withered and stunted vegetation I see presently over-running and littering that ground, is another. To understand better why the Party is… 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

High Noon is Nearly Upon Us. Where’s the Sheriff ?

Around the world, the hoodlums and outlaws are running amok, in their suits of armour made of lies. By contrast, the sheriffs seem downcast, overwhelmed and on the run. I feel downcast and overwhelmed, too. Might it mean that I’m a sheriff, in disguise ? But there is no star in my cupboard. The picture I have, or image I’m… continue reading

The Parrot Repetitive

The parrot in his cage is sitting pretty, hanging on tight. Meanwhile, Mr Toad is enjoying himself in the chaos he’s been allowed to stir up. Chaos is Toad’s element. It tends to follow him, with cameras. Presumably those who’ve granted Toad this scope find chaos fun as well. The first few lines here contain a whole list of references… continue reading

The Parrot Studies the Human Brain

This stanza was written just minutes before it was announced that Mr B. Johnson, sacked twice in the past for being a liar, had just become Prime Minister of the UK. He had been elected to that position, not by the country, but by members of the Tory Party, some of whom had only just joined the membership, adamant they… continue reading

The Parrot Keeps Asking

On the day this piece was written the nation was waiting to find out which of the two rival (Tory) candidates was about to take control of our nation, Hunt or Johnson. Both were hollow men, diddy men. Johnson was widely expected to get it, so no great surprise was expressed when he did. In the meantime, one was vividly… continue reading

Judgement from Paradise

I don’t think there was any immediate catalyst for this stanza, as far as date or event were concerned. In the UK, as elsewhere, there just seemed to be so few redeeming features, no 5th cavalry rescue , no clearing of the mist, no light of sanity breaking through. The thought that we make a world that reflects the chaos… continue reading

Speaking of the Worst

The stanza above makes extensive reference to that extraordinary and justifiably famous poem by W.B. Yeats called “The Second Coming”. Yeats’ poem applies so closely to our own present time, of course. But might that be true of every present time ? Shakespeare too was gripped by the fear of breakdown in the order of things, and wrote extraordinary descriptions… continue reading

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

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