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

Easter Rising 1916: Die Taube, by Joseph Plunkett
Friday, 10 April 2020 09:41

Easter Rising 1916: Die Taube, by Joseph Plunkett

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in Poetry
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
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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
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Wednesday, 08 April 2020 14:27

Pietà

in Poetry
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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
K2_PUBLISHED_ON Wednesday, 08 April 2020 07:44

The Empty Chair Makes The Widow Cry

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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…
Markham Main
Friday, 03 April 2020 08:10

Markham Main

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in Poetry
 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…
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…
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