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

Meanwhile (spoiler alert) back at the Apocalypse…
Wednesday, 15 April 2020 12:44

Meanwhile (spoiler alert) back at the Apocalypse…

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in Poetry
Meanwhile (spoiler alert) back at the Apocalypse… by Jim Mainland Tammy’s new flatmate is acting strangely againGwen awaits the results of her hospital testBarry’s practical joke backfires Leanne’s drinking reaches devastating proportionsLen prepares to meet his natural motherBen suspects Lisa is cheating on himCarol discovers Jason and Keith in a…
Indebted
Monday, 13 April 2020 11:17

Indebted

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in Poetry
Indebted by Sally Flint 'I owe them my life.' - Boris Johnson, thanking NHS staff. It's early morning: no-one speaks. Not yet.Yellow's Orthopaedics, pink Paediatrics,purple Chemo ‒ not enough aqua for A&E,so there's a sharing out of ICU's blues. They've sat with the dying beyond shifts,high-fived and hugged each other…
Easter Rising 1916: Die Taube, by Joseph Plunkett
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Friday, 10 April 2020 09:41

Easter Rising 1916: Die Taube, by Joseph Plunkett

in Poetry
Written by
Jenny Farrell presents the third poem written by the poet-leaders of the Irish Easter Rebellion in 1916. It is Joseph Plunkett’s “Die Taube”, written in 1915. Engagement with German literature was not unusual for the Irish revolutionary poets and leaders of the Easter Rising in 1916. One of the seven…
Guerilla Christ
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Wednesday, 08 April 2020 18:39

Guerilla Christ

in Poetry
Written by
Guerilla Christ, By Alfredo Rostgaard féachann sé isteachi gcroí gach caipitlí -Críost treallchogaí he sees into the heartof every capitalist -guerrilla Christ he seis intae the herto ilka capitalist -guerrilla ChristLeagan Béarla na hAlban: John McDonald 資本家の心を見入るゲリラの(救世)主Leagan Seapáiníse: Mariko Sumikura
Pietà
Wednesday, 08 April 2020 14:27

Pietà

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in Poetry
Pietà After the mural by Maxo Vanka by Fran Lock we have held him too, and wept our reticentalchemy. have worn our aura of knives. haverocked these cumbersome puppets: sons, brothers, fathers, all our lovely waywardvanguard. a ventriloquist’s doll, death madeof him. we have covered our hair. we have entered…
The Empty Chair Makes The Widow Cry
Wednesday, 08 April 2020 07:44

The Empty Chair Makes The Widow Cry

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in Poetry
The Empty Chair Makes The Widow Cry by P. W. Bridgman “The empty chair makes the widow cry, etc.To the auctioneer it’s just a cheap chair.”1 Sarah had skirted ’round the newly empty chair every dayfor weeks, yet nothing seemed to get any better(despite what others had to say). She…
The Advent of Mr. Nothing
Tuesday, 07 April 2020 10:37

The Advent of Mr. Nothing

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in Poetry
The Advent of Mr Nothing by Kevin Higgins All the messiahs safely crucified;the choice again, as it should be,between the Imp of All Liesand Mr Nothing. We’re again outside the padlocked gate.Should anyone think of scaling the wall,the garden is now patrolledby wolves with orders to dine first,and be exonerated…
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