Poetry

Poetry

It goes on one at a time,
it starts when you care to act,
it starts when you do it again after they said no,
it starts when you say we and know who you mean,
and each day you mean one more.

Marge Piercy

Aftersong
Friday, 21 July 2017 18:01

Aftersong

Written by
in Poetry
After-Song by Robert Farrell One hears and moves toward it. One moves, but is Not in it, what does not Keep but flowers forth. We aren’t it. It is What lets the sky appear, The sunrise rise to site a circle in Hills whose rocks refuse toRecognize themselves in us.…
one block of council flats left
Thursday, 20 July 2017 21:34

one block of council flats left

Written by
in Poetry
 one block of council flats left by Martin Hayes just one block of council flats remains in this area where we work our magic in allocating out jobs to couriersso that multinationals and £500-an-hour law firms and hedge-fund managers who look after billions of pounds can remain healthy and strong…
Bates Pit Night BLUE
Sunday, 09 July 2017 14:42

The Miner

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in Poetry
The Miner  by Glenn Bradford  Still dreams of the pit, does old Derek.Gripping the duvet in great calloused handsas if ready to swing at the coalface of the night. Stripped to the waist. A vivid reprise.Terry, Taylor and The Bull, headlamps in hand,anticipating the familiar clatter of a closing cage…
Jeremy Corbyn addresses the huge crowd at the 2017 Durham Miners' Gala
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Sunday, 09 July 2017 06:00

Seeing Red

in Poetry
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Seeing Red by Jon Tait If it wasn’t hung from the ceiling in a museum,we’d paint Jeremy Corbyn’s faceon the red Lodge banneralongside Keir Hardie and Nye Bevan. We’re still going Forward with Socialismand the colours never fade;still red as the Manchester United shirtthat Bobby Charlton wore, red as the…
A worker reads and asks questions
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Sunday, 25 June 2017 21:18

A worker reads and asks questions

in Poetry
Written by
The recent election results showed a stunning level of support for Jeremy Corbyn and the Labour Party’s anti-austerity policies. Working people are clearly starting to ask more questions about who exactly produces the wealth in class-divided societies, including our own. Jenny Farrell’s father made this brilliant translation of one of…
Grenfell Engulfed
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Friday, 23 June 2017 11:41

Grenfell Engulfed

in Poetry
Written by
Grenfell Engulfed In memory of those who lost their lives in the Grenfell Tower fire by Alan Morrison In spite of recent refurbishments – fireproofed? –Grenfell Tower was engulfed in flames the full lengthOf its eyesore height ringed by brown-brick mansion blocks(Much better Thirties relics of curvaceous art deco);Now Grenfell…
On the Up
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Friday, 16 June 2017 13:51

On the Up

in Poetry
Written by
On The Up by Paul Dovey He was on the up,He knew what to say, voted the right way,And he kept the report buried,In the time capsule under his desk,The hermetically sealed preservation of the old order. The area was on the up,Shopping centres and investors,The supersonic property boom,Legacy tenants…
 Zoë Kravitz
Thursday, 08 June 2017 13:56

Staring Back

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in Poetry
Staring Back by Manash Firaq Bhattarcharjee The eye you see is notan eye because you see it;it is an eye because it sees you.~ Antonio Machado, ‘Proverbs and Songs’ You stare at her body. You don’t seeHer eyes seeing you. Her body is a blind mannequinOf desire. When she moves,…
Source: Leon Farrell/Photocall Ireland
Saturday, 03 June 2017 18:45

An Irish Politician Speaks

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in Poetry
An Irish Politician Speaks by Kathryn Keane Of course what you're doingis phenomenal, I've no doubt aboutthat, and I'll stay safely behind youevery step of the way.And of course it's a fine cause,something we should all besupporting, and all it needsis someone just like youto lead the way and someone…
Mud
Saturday, 03 June 2017 08:29

Mud

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in Poetry
Mud       by Susan Millar DuMars  You did right to stay put. We admire you.  You, with your gun and your country. Your children squat in the mud they were made from. We want to help you. Those who ran, are still running, they’re not noble.  Not solid. They flit and…
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