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

arise!
Saturday, 13 July 2019 17:15

arise!

Written by
in Poetry
arise! is a poem by Paul Summers, published to celebrate the rich history and traditions of the Durham Miners’ Gala and the resurgent spirit of socialism in the Labour Party under Jeremy Corbyn. We want to make a film of the poem for the labour movement, and we need to…
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Hands Down
Wednesday, 03 July 2019 15:24

Hands Down

Written by
in Poetry
Hands Down by Raymond Miller Once the sniffles had begunmy wife joined in accord.I could see the ending comeand still rose to applaud just like all those years beforeand Fahrenheit 9/11,I stood up for Michael Mooreand haven't learnt my lesson. It makes me want to swing a leftat our tight-fisted…
I, Daniel Blake
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Waiting for Boris
Tuesday, 25 June 2019 17:52

Waiting for Boris

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in Poetry
Waiting for Borisafter Constantine Cavafy by Kevin Higgins What are they waiting for,the archbishops and casino ownersclutching their bags of cocaine,the barman at Wetherspoons eyeing the clock,and the little people who livein Jacob Rees-Mogg’s top hatwho’ve been watching things go slowly downhillsince thirteen eighty one? Boris is to arrive todayin…
Boris Johnson Jacob ReesMogg Godhelpusall
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£77 per hour
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Monday, 24 June 2019 10:27

£77 per hour

in Poetry
Written by
£77 per hour by Becky Bone nine thousand two hundred and fifty9250pounds per year (1 year = 20 weeks) four hundred and sixty two pounds and fifty pence per weekdivided by6 hours contact time per week £77 per hour I was pretty good at maths natural like got a C…
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tuition fees
Bojo: Night Thoughts of a Political Journalist
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Sunday, 16 June 2019 16:05

Bojo: Night Thoughts of a Political Journalist

in Poetry
Written by
Night Thoughts of a Political Journalist by Chris Norris It's faults of yours in me that I most hate.The mirror finds fresh features to despise.How intimately known each odious trait!No fault of yours I couldn't try for size. I hear you bluster, bluff, prevaricate,Twist questions round, give off-the-point replies,Yet tell…
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Boris Johnson
Sitting Ducks
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Sunday, 16 June 2019 15:59

Sitting Ducks

in Poetry
Written by
Sitting ducks by Steve Griffiths As we went about our humdrum little tasksthey had us in crosshairs,observing our tastes, worming into our whims, our victimhood as it was forming. The aim of the barrel waveredin a human hand, exaggerating difference,upping the contrast in the rangefinder to insistent.Just one bullet, a…
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The Restoration
Monday, 03 June 2019 13:53

The Restoration

Written by
in Poetry
The Restoration by Kevin Higgins Election results tumble in,like pinstriped clumps of hairy baconbeing lowered via giant mechanical arminto a fizzing Jacuzzito be congratulated by the mediawho have long since discarded their G-strings. Things as they used to behave been pasted back together,or almost, like a vase broken during an…
Galway City Council
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Christ is a communist and God is a miner: ‘The Sair Road’ by William Hershaw
Friday, 31 May 2019 16:03

Christ is a communist and God is a miner: ‘The Sair Road’ by William Hershaw

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in Poetry
Jim Aitken reviews The Sair Road, by Willie Hershaw. The header image and all others in this review are by Les McConnell, the illustrator Far from creating any ‘gude and godlie’ kingdom in Scotland as a result of the Reformation there in 1560, by the time of Robert Burns (1759-96)…
Robert Burns PreRaphaelites Georgs Bernard Shaw Jesus Christ Keir Hardie Arthur Scargill Margaret Thatcher Neil Kinnock Helder Camara Pope Francis Terry Eagleton
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Look at me, lingering outside this murdered church
Friday, 31 May 2019 15:56

Look at me, lingering outside this murdered church

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in Poetry
Look at me, lingering outside this murdered church by Jane Burn Open your lids, you coal-smut, bitter thing. Undraw the blindthat your plunged doom has set in the lead of your eyes.Too many years of chimneys, licking their filth on your bricks.Nobody comes to pluck at your weeds. Look at…
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