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

Guerilla Christ
Wednesday, 08 April 2020 18:39

Guerilla Christ

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in Poetry
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
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Tuesday, 07 April 2020 10:37

The Advent of Mr. Nothing

in Poetry
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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…
Markham Main
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Friday, 03 April 2020 08:10

Markham Main

in Poetry
Written by
 Markham Main by Sarah Wimbush Afternoons, they meet upon street corners like old youths planning revolution. Gaffers, fathers, brothers -an hour at the Club with a pint.Go over the end again, and again. How they were the last by three daysto stay out in Yorkshire.How they’d gu back tomorra. After…
Callout: Bread and Roses Poetry Award 2020
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Thursday, 02 April 2020 14:13

Callout: Bread and Roses Poetry Award 2020

in Poetry
Written by
Culture Matters is pleased to announce that the fourth Bread and Roses Poetry Award, kindly sponsored by Unite the Union, is now open for entries. Our mission is to promote a socialist approach to all cultural activities, including arts such as poetry. So we run the Bread and Roses Poetry…
After Lockdown
Thursday, 02 April 2020 10:19

After Lockdown

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in Poetry
After Lockdown By Christopher Norris, with images by Martin Gollan and James Gillray No we’ll never go back to the bad old days,To the days of corporate greed,When the bankers thrived on their bad old ways,And the poor folk went in need.For when viruses strike they don’t care who pays,Who’s…
Covid-19: The General Speaks of His Sorrow
Sunday, 29 March 2020 13:39

Covid-19: The General Speaks of His Sorrow

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in Poetry
A poem in Irish and English by Gabriel Rosenstock, with image by Otto Dix called Wounded Soldier Covid 19: The General Speaks of His Sorrow by Gabriel Rosenstock Self-isolation . . .These bitter days When can I send battalionsOf raw young menTo warTo crush their bonesAnd the bones of others…
Questions From The Dead
Saturday, 28 March 2020 21:33

Questions From The Dead

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Questions from the Dead by K. Satchidanandan Which country’s border was Hiuen Tsang crossing when, on a donkey, he crossed the Himalayan pass with a sack full of Buddhist texts? Whence came the races that spokeDravidian and Aryan tongues? Was there no one in Indiawhen they landed here? Not even…
Everyone's Hearts Were Clapping
Saturday, 28 March 2020 10:54

Everyone's Hearts Were Clapping

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in Poetry
onavirusEveryone’s Hearts Were Clapping by Owen Gallagher Everyone stood outside their front door.As the clock struck eight they began to clap slowly as if someone was coming on stage but as more in the street joined in, they clapped louder and louder as if they were freeingsomething within, perhaps a…
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