Reformation 500

A poem to commemorate 500 years since Martin Luther nailed his beliefs to the church door and began the Reformation.

In the beginning

Was the word,

Reformation,

Condemnation

Of corruption, 

nailed for all to see.

Excommunication,

The weapon of the Holy See,

Threat of flame for heresy.
In the beginning

Was the word,

Reformation,

Printed in the common tongue,

Spread from nation to nation,

A king searching for marital bliss

Seized on this,

An answer sublime,

Where church and state combine.
In the beginning,

Was the word,

Painted over ruined images.

Broken beauty,

Ruined churches a plenty

Bloodshed, gore,

Execution,

Persecution, war,

Two tribes set Europe aflame,

All in the Almighty’s name.
In the beginning,

Was the word,

Reformation.

A crusade turned 

Civil war in the name of faith,

Brother against brother

Over divine grace,

One word caused 

Apocalypse,

A new world, Genesis,

Reformation became a bloody revolution.

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Solstice 2016

‪Among the stones,‬
‪I gaze at the past,‬

‪Contemplating the future.‬

‪How long the darkness will last,‬

‪On the darkest day,‬

‪The sun finally rises.‬

Human rights

A human has the right to live,

The right to love and be loved in return,

The right to grow, 

the right to learn.
A human has the right to be safe

live free from fear

The right to live 

without flows of tears.
Your rights are their rights,

mine.

Deprive them,

Deny them

you deny yours and mine.
Rights are rights ,

be it in the remains of a bombed city,

A refugee camp

Or the streets of Britain.

Dear children

Dear Children

 

Dear children,

Despite what they tell you, 

Despite those harsh tests they impose on you,

Where they measure you,

Unfairly compare you.

With fronted adverbials

Rough worded questions designed to trick you

They demoralise you.

Dear children,

Your curiosity

Your creativity is all that matters to me.

The Sphinx 

Pharaohs, conquerors come and go but the Sphinx remains….

The Sphinx 


I lie upon the arid sand,

A relic from an ancient land.

One face,

Many names

Khafre,

Horus on the horizon,

Father of terror.

My secrets are my own,

Such secrets unknown,

Hidden.

I’ve seen it all,

Mighty men,

Would be gods,

Kings,

Conquerors,

Keeping power by majesty, sword and gun.

Iron men easily corrode.

I lie upon the sands,

I gaze and smile,

Adored by those 

From beyond the banks of the Nile.

Aleppo 2016

News beamed

To distant to screens,

Of scenes of 1940s brutality,

1990s cruelty,

Barbarity,

Lack of humanity in this young century.

This is a place where a ceasefire isn’t a ceasefire,

The writ of international law means nothing here,

Amongst the bomb pounded city.

While the world watches,

The Angels of death in the skies above

Unleash an apocalypse.

The ruins tell,

Where once, 

in ancient Aleppo people did dwell,

Now on earth we behold hell.

Grammar school

An education policy with the intention of turning back the clock, reinforcing, not breaking down a socially divided nation.

Grammar school

Welcome dear students

To grammar school,

For you my chaps who are born to rule.
A return to the good old days,

Mortarboards and school ties,

Perfecting the sneers from privileged eyes.
Selection,

We can afford the extra tuition,

For admission based on examination.
Selection,

to conserve, to preserve,

Our selective social position.
Carpe Diem,

Tempus fugit,

Latin mottos, a password,

a passport

To running this divided nation.
Selection

My lesson plans,

Don’t select based on background,

Do not deny opportunity.

A verb is a verb, a noun is a noun,

Whether you can pass an entrance exam or not,

It matters not.

In my classroom you can aspire,

To a future you can choose,

A verb is a verb, a noun is a noun.

Princeps

Not a King,

An actor upon a newly marble stage.

Divi Filius,

Adopted by Uncle Julius,

Caesar

But what’s in a name?

Made divine,

Constant with the annual passing of time,

Eighth of Twelve.

An actor needs a costume,

Armour makes way for priestly robes.

Warrior now builds bridges.

No to Rex,

He shall be instead

Princeps.

Cap of Liberty (peterloo) 

A poem commemorating the Peterloo massacre of 1819, when 18 were killed in Manchester just for seeking the vote.

Cap of Liberty



Peaceful assembly 

on the fields

Seeking reform, the vote,

Liberty.

Banners flying,

Topped with that old symbol,

The red cap of

Liberty.

They came riding riding,

Sabres drawn

Just like Waterloo,

A battle against lady Liberty.

Riding down and slashing

People like you and me

18 butchered innocently,

Red the colour of the blood stain

And the cap of Liberty.

I am a Mancunian

I may be homeless,

Living on the street,

A stranger on a tram that you happen to meet,

But I am a mancunian.

Mancunian.

I may be a red or a blue,

Locked in sports gladiator duel,

But I am a mancunian,

Mancunian.
I may speak many languages,

One, or a few,

With words sounding unfamiliar to you.

I may be a Christian,

A Muslim, A Jew,

A Sikh, A Buddhist,

Or Hindu.

I may have strong faith,

Or no faith,

But I am a mancunian,

Mancunian.
I may love the rain or Loathe the rain,

But gay straight or bi,

Full of faith or no faith be I,

Red or blue,

Have or have not,

I am your kindred ‘ar kid’,

I’m a bee in the hive,

I’m a mancunian.