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

Plague Songs
Wednesday, 31 March 2021 12:26

Plague Songs

Written by
in Poetry
In May 2020 the award-winning cartoonist Martin Rowson set himself the challenge of writing a Lockdown Diary in verse. The result is Plague Songs, a unique cycle of furious, bleakly comic and often offensive poems about COVID-19, fiercely inventive and desperately funny. Rowson, who recovered from the virus at the…
No Money in the Bank
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Thursday, 25 March 2021 10:56

No Money in the Bank

in Poetry
Written by
No Money in the Bank by Samantha Masi No money in the bank. But how will we pay our bills? No money.The computer algorithmmessed up again. Why won't it let us be?They all sigh, they say Why can't you get a job?I'm doing my childmindingcourse. I'm moving. I'll applyfor care.I…
One Year On
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Wednesday, 24 March 2021 11:17

One Year On

in Poetry
Written by
One Year On by David Erdos, with image by Paulette Parker Birds wake me to sing a mutant song for us. Unusual for them, This stung chorus catches wracked power as well as the pitch That’s been rising even as we all fall far from shape. It has been One…
No Amnesty
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Sunday, 21 March 2021 17:37

No Amnesty

in Poetry
Written by
No Amnesty A soliloquy from a still-to-be written political play by David Betteridge, with image by Bob Starrett [How can we] offend the dead and shame the livingBy these despairs? And how refrain from love?This is a difficult country, and our home.- Edwin Muir Today I am giving up politics.…
He's Behind You
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Saturday, 20 March 2021 21:01

He's Behind You

in Poetry
Written by
He's Behind You by Sally Flint, with image by Martin Gollan My shoes aren't suited for walking fast, home's only minutes away ̶ I'm gripping a door-key in my hand when, out of a gateway, a shifting shadow, taller than me. Is it the man from the bar who lined…
today of all days
Wednesday, 17 March 2021 19:55

today of all days

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in Poetry
today of all days by Fran Lock even now there are names we will not stoop to say.between the famine and the feast. the prostrate partof silence. what the dog digs up, what the well drawsforth: cromm crúaich. cromwell. conquest. all limbsand skins through the heat of siege. even now,…
Meeting the Irish
Wednesday, 17 March 2021 19:45

Meeting the Irish

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in Poetry
Meeting the Irish, 1972Connemara by Edward Boyne We were hoovered-up off the known streetsby revving buses nervous in The Coombe,rushed at speed, through drowsy posh estates.It was like a moving quarantine.We had polished the Doc Martensand sharp-shaved the heads.Wore braces for the half-mast jeans,leather jackets, studs, Led Zeppelin tee-shirts.Left behind…
Eleven
Wednesday, 17 March 2021 14:44

Eleven

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in Poetry
Eleven(i.m. Eric Garner 17th July 2014) by Annie Wright, with image by John Minchillo Incident Eric Garner, neighbourhood peacemaker, has just stoppeda fight on Bay Street, Staten Island, New York NYPDwhen he’s accused of selling loosies* without a licence by five cops. Pantaleo tries to cuff him, slams him to…
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