Poetry Blog by Wolfgar

On the beach


A disused children’s playground

the Carousel and Ferris Wheel,

where the seesaw’ed 

when the peace thawed


Over there a shell hole

fifty meters from the breakfast buffet

The Al Deira Hotel fly’s freedom flags

but no castles in this sand today


The crippled body bent and cast

like a post-card from the edge

the broken promise clear at last

just another w...

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You’re beautiful in Silhouette 

your insides don’t expose

like an x-ray undisclosed as yet

you’re almost dead but no-one knows


Beneath your vibrant surface

shadows gather looming

and though you seem quite perfect

the end of you is blooming


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I saw a news report

it upset me so much

I mean so much

it upset me so much


You know what I did

I wrote a poem

I wrote a poem

I thought that’ll teach the bastards


Once they see our poetry

they’ll piss their pants

they’ll quake in their boots

they’ll stop dropping barrel bombs


Our wordy solidarity

will fortify their crippled souls

It’ll b...

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Self loathing

The eternal refugee

entry picture


They fell from the city its confines rejected them like a virus,

yet still they lived, disembodied.


Forging to the seas they sailed,

ancient text and relics folded in palm and cortex.


Warmed by Sun then chilled by Winds,

living by stars and bread and wine, delivered from banishment.


As refugees they arrived silent at first, claiming their ground.

Setting do...

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A definition of sanity


A definition of sanity

might be choosing not to kill when presented the opportunity.


Bashir pushes my food across the plate,

he shows me the good meat and smiles a vagabond grin.


We bring him iPads and text books,

and he buys us lunch with coke and finds us shade.


He tells me of his family here for generations

forty years he worked for my flag, his land sti...

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Beneath the monied keyboard of the poet laureate

I push against the letter pads

in the hope that she’ll forget

the publishers and critics the feeders and the few

that manipulate her fingers that would punch what isn’t true


But truth is easy purchased in the shallow world of words

and even those of principle are prone to polish turds

her stubby little digits used to h...

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An Old Poet slips away


An old poet slipped away the world didn’t stop

the breeze caught the curtains

I’m sure I felt his words waft in

they danced around the furniture and left


Half dreaming half remembering

an old mans paper thin skin

weathered and worn like luggage

carrying the traveller to who knows where


And now his rhyme is open ended

others will finish what he started


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entry picture


I walked the Via Dolorosa slowly brushing passed pilgrims,

in front of me an Arab man dragged two tortoise in a plastic bread basket.

They clambered over each other unable to see the rise of the path,


neither knowing I am sure what they were or where they were heading.

At the Church of the Holy Sepulchre the man rested on stone steps,

lifting the creatures from the basket ...

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At gates


I come embattled to your gates 

I am draped in blood and guilt,

your walls terrify me

Knowing that beyond lies deliverance. 


A million souls of souls long dead

who journeyed this same path,

and now I almost crawl to you

my last breath drawn, my dagger thrust.


For now I stand here a naked man

my soul is bereft of faith,

I shake and cry in agony

Oh lor...

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He found a stone in-between the fences

matted with blood and hair,

across the wire blackened canisters and rubber

which came from here but landed there.


There’s a fat old sloth slumped by the checkpoint

his weapon slung like a child’s toy,

he drags laboriously on filterless tips

and has no concern for a wounded boy.


From the tower, cameras scan the terrain


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Saying hello to something


On my first night here the house bristles with life around me,

I listen to competing calls, whose unfamiliar tongues command.

Streets kid’s playing football, Manchester and Arsenal below The Mount,

The fragrant waft of Orange Groves, my senses overload. 


A red sky wipes itself to black, Cross and Crescent bejewel the night,

feline skip invaders pick the flesh off lesser li...

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Saying farewell to nothing


On this my last night here, the house settles still around me.

I listen to the street with its familiar hum,

the foot-fall of people I’ve never seen but know instinctively

as they pass then move along.


Silver shards of moonlight pierce the slatted blinds

my friendly wild eyed fox sits beneath the window, 

does he hear me breathing? imagining his movement,

he skips an...

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