On winter days, with frosted breath,

We wander to the warm, great hall

To see this sacred scene once more.

A mother mourns her perished son,

As mothers do across the world,

While washed-up men, most often old,

Pick off the innocent for sport.

Grouped women, tethered in their grief,

Mop up the personal effects,

Doused in their humid, sodden tears.

Soon, beyond anger, b...

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Get yourself a lump of marble

Twenty feet by six by six

Borrow a set of chisels

Or buy them from Screwfix

Empty out your garage or outdoor store

Of furniture and kids’ bikes from ceiling to floor

Grab yourself a mallet

Michelangelo liked wood

And get stuck in whilst listening to Johnnie B Goode

With every blow you will release

The body shape within

From a...

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