War and Terror

They never talked about the war,

the ones who fought and struggled through it

Why speak of memories so sore?

They never talked about the war

but football, politics and more

Unless the young asked them to do it,

they never talked about the war,

the ones who fought and struggled through it

She didn’t say the war was won

Instead she said the war was ended

Fall silent now, the bomb and gun

She didn’t say the war was won

There’s future-building to be done

Place and people to be mended

She didn’t say the war was won

Instead she said the war was ended

I spoke with my dad (pictured) about his memories of the 1945 general election ...

75 years ago when I was seven, I experienced the first of 22 general elections in my life.

Also published in Solidarity newspaper.

One hundred years ago, on the very first Remembrance Day, 11 November 1919, the Daily Herald, a socialist newspaper, published this article on its front page.

Also published on the Workers' Liberty website.

The ‘Great War’ was finally over. When it had begun in August 1914, the British government predicted that it would be won by Christmas, but it had dragged on for four more years, with dreadful suffering and loss of life. In 1916, Britain began conscripting its men to fight.

Also published on the Workers' Liberty website here.

11 November 1918 had been merely an armistice. The war would not be officially over until peace terms had been negotiated.

In response to the news that the Pope wants to change the words of the Lord's Prayer ...

I have a friend from my Manchester days whose daughter Hope lives there ...

Hope's mum tweets
That Hope is safe
Not at the Arena
Not a fan
Too busy sweating
Her exams
Hope texted mum at six twenty-nine
Hope is fine

Hope's mum's relieved
But still bereaved
For all the others
Devastated
At death-cult murder perpetrated
In the name of god
Why?

My (unsuccessful) entry to the 2017 Stanley Spencer Poetry Competition run by the Cookham Festival, celebrating its 50th anniversary and Spencer's 125th. It is about Spencer's 'Shipbuilding' paintings.

Frank was the Furnace Man, earnest and warm
The firebox of Shipbuilding, heat where there’s cold
He’s Chalmers by name and embraced for his charm
Stoking the fire made him strong in the arm
His gift to his workmates whatever their roles
Was letting them dry with a seat on his coals

Looks like this, does it, liberation?
Isolated from supplies, routes closed, blown from the skies
Barrel bombs bowled along alleys
Enclaved civilians tweet from their graves, farewells from beneath
Rubble, the stones where their homes used to be
Aleppo cries, crumbles, defeated, they see
Tyranny returning, triumphant, burning
Inhabitants gathered, culled, or running for their lives
Out of the city, fleeing as they wouldn't if they had actually been freed
No, this is not what liberation looks like.