Category Truth Telling

    I sent this poem and the one below to my own MP several days ago now. This MP is a Tory and belongs in the “2019 intake.” A member of the MP’s team contacted back just to check that I lived in her constituency and could thus expect her to “represent” me. I assured that person that I did and… continue reading

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Mr. Johnson’s Competition

The UK Tory Party Conference is taking place in Manchester, as I write this. In the little poem above, written this morning after a very rainy night, I am thinking of various misleading and dishonest pronouncements made by Prime Minister Johnson in and around the conference. Perhaps the one that struck me hardest, was his statement delivered to the respected… continue reading

The Good of Language

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The Potent Appeal of the “Strong Model”

  Why do certain behaviours, or opinions, or political policies, become popular at some point, where before they would have been rejected out of hand ? Why do certain approaches, or qualities of presentation, previously scorned, suddenly start to be given value ?  And do all such changes represent advance, or improvement ? No.  And caught up as we are in… continue reading

In Search of Good Faith

I have been carrying a little string of thoughts in my head for several weeks. They make a point I haven’t seen being made elsewhere and which might be worth adding to the mix. Maybe it would be of interest to someone passing, even throw some further light, however dim and peripheral, on what’s happening around us, or at least… continue reading

What Are Words For ?

So how are we to use this astonishing power we have ? This ability to shape the air into sounds of meaning which then we can share – is it purely and only a survival tool, a way to influence, or sell a line ? Are words just hooks to fish with ? And on from that, does communicating through… continue reading

UK ’21 – Resumé from the Cage

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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

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

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