Category pychology

The Potent Appeal of the “Strong Model”

  It’s often difficult to understand why, at some point, certain behaviours or opinions or political policies become acceptable, even popular, which were not acceptable or popular before ; why certain approaches or qualities of presentation start to be given value, where before they had no appeal. And caught up as we are in a world transforming faster and faster, it… continue reading

Two Poems for the Autumn

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The Beast Outside the Citadel

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My Way to You

I keep coming upon this poem in its folder, its digital “archive,” and it’s as if I’ve tripped up on it. It somehow sticks out, sitting meekly under “M” in its alphabetical order. But where really does it belong ? I never quite know what to make of it and yet I think it is possibly a poem I would… continue reading

Homecoming

  The “home” I was thinking of when I wrote this poem is a particular landscape I happen still to love, not only because, in its own way, it is beautiful, but because I associate it with a seminal time in my life, a time of growth, of emergence, of true beginning. And at that time, it already seemed to… 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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Centaur

The centaur belongs in Greek myth and is part horse, part human. Some aspects, or strands, of the story portray the centaur as teacher, and as having healing powers. The photograph here is of the Uffington White Horse. It can be found in Oxfordshire, ten miles east of Swindon, on the Berkshire Downs. It is by far the oldest of… continue reading

Gathering Fruit

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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

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

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