In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk
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… Continue reading The Gaze Blank and Pitiless
I thought this was true in 2014, when it was written. I did not know then that the truth can become truer.… Continue reading I See Everywhere the False
Our democratic politics isn’t working and, in my view, its dysfunction is one of the major causes of our present national crisis.
In so many ways, our political structures and democratic processes – not just here in the UK, but manifestly in other countries too – are under attack and also in question. We have to… Continue reading Might Labour be the Force to Renew UK Politics ?
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… Continue reading The Widow
The prose piece that follows begins with the mismatch in the UK, between the present Prime Minister’s relative popularity on the one hand, and his long established disregard for the Nolan Principles of ethical conduct on the other. The piece provides a reminder that our Prime Minister has… Continue reading The Lying Toad is Back, the Tousled Look, the Winning Smirk, Our Leader...
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… Continue reading High Noon is Nearly Upon Us. Where's the Sheriff ?
This week Mr Trump (“the American Minotaur”) was in the UK for a meeting of NATO leaders. Then he got the hump because people were laughing at him and he left early.
Not long ago, Mr Johnson (“The Toad”) did a Putin with a… Continue reading The Toad Negotiates with the Underworld
Prime Minister Johnson and his gang had lost a succession of important votes the day before this stanza was written. Several prominent and moderate Tories who had voted against the government and against the possibility of a “No Deal” Brexit, had simply been sacked. Ken Clarke was one of those… Continue reading The Parrot Joins the Circus
Mr Toad had just come back from his morning swim in Biarritz, when this was written. However, the smoke over the Amazon forest could be smelt by all the G7 participants. But among the wine glasses, Mr Toad appeared to get on very well with the American Minotaur. I wrote… Continue reading Mr Toad Turns to Ballooning
Lost in the chaos of present events, we – or something in us – look to leadership for orientation, guidance and comfort. And the same something perhaps assumes that, the worse the crisis, the better that leadership must be and rescue is on the way. And assumes as well that, in this chaos, our own… Continue reading Dust
Copyright © Rogan Wolf – Poet and Social Worker
In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk
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