Fatma Hossana,

her truth, in photos at Cannes,

murdered in Gaza.

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Saoirse don Phalaistín!

Justice must win!

Freedom for Palestine!

Their freedom’s thine,

Their freedom’s mine.

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NB. My original intention, somewhat clumsily expressed, was to voice the thoughts of 

A. someone benignly called a "settler", who, in any other context would be a considered a terrorist and a thief.

B. the so-called "Christian" mercenaries who, based in RAF Akrotiri, enable that genocide and ethnic cleansing.

I consider a re-post of “Land and Freedom” to be highly appropriate, in view of ...

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Easter Tuesday,

April the twenty-second,

in the Year of Our Lord

Twenty-Twenty Five,

Speak Truth to Power,

on a Global Day

of Civil Disobedience

in support of the people

(yes, they are people,

yes, they are human),

of Palestine,

a Global Day, chosen

to be around Easter-time,

an Easter time for Palestine,

in an effort to shame

those “Christian” by nam...

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N.B. I suppose I should make allowances for the Tommy Ten Names of this world, and admit that in the white heat of fascistic fervour, it is possible to confuse hamas with hummus…and gooodness knows what horrors might be inflicted by a beardy, muesli- eating sandal-wearing, Guardian-reading pacifist waving a bread stick around!

The Arabic يُكافِح means to struggle, and حُمُّص means hummus - not ...

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Auschwitz, now Gaza.

Broken hearts cannot weep, so

rain feeds our snowdrops.

Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh, 27th March 2025

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Nature or nurture?

where she was concerned

there was never any doubt

about either,

but ranks will close

as and when needs must.

Light by name, and light by nature,

A smile to light up every room,

she had always been that way,

instinctively loving and caring,

ever gratefully aware

of the precarity of

her own origins,

but the patriarchy looks

after its ...

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Oh, what a joy for me on World Book Day

to sit beside our five-year-old in school:

our little lass read Frozen to her Granddad,

as long and short words, sure and steady, flowed:

I read a little while to let her rest:

then, ended thirty minutes of delight,

when teacher summoned in another class. 

A forty-minute drive, then forty back;

all worth it! Granddad’s proud he’s don...

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Good Morning Britain!

An Islamophobic prick

Talking Testicles.

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The Berlin Holocaust Memorial is stark.

For the Tool though, those Stelae made a brilliant backdrop

to his ‘Twenty-Two election publicity lark;

The Shoa, he reduced to a pantomime prop,

Behind you, behind you! Look, Sir, it’s the …!

At Auschwitz yer man is on ‘Twenty-Five’s photo-shoot,

The strain in his face, act studiously honed

to show that he cares, oh, look at him, ...

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the world weeps: enough!

set Palestine’s people free

 love’s the only way

❤

stokers of hate’s fire

tried to bury love’s dissent

but buried good seed

❤

we’re now growing strong

our shoots dance in winds of change

love, bring Spring’s revolt!

❤

Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh 25th January 2025

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don’t speak in my name!

murdered in incubators,

they won’t see this Spring

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On London’s streets there’s

trouble for Jews with flowers.

Peacemakers aren’t blessed.

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Auschwitz? forgotten!

Objectors to Genocide

repressed in Britain.

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Here's The Last Supper,

Just Stop Oil’s doing porridge,

“Sunflowers, darling?”

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Seek truth and justice.

Absence of war’s mere pretence!

True peace, not pieces.

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qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm is not allowed,

qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm enjoy cheap thrills,

qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm, I’m well-endowed,

qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm, a bottle of Pils,

qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm, upon my knees,

qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm, the seven seas.

qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm, my boots did shine,

qwertyuiopasdfghjklzxcvbnm the milky way,

qwertyuiop...

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I'm recording with my Yeti,

but nothing rhymes with Beano,

now, sing along with me and Betty,

'Green grow the rushes-o'.

😁😁😁 (or for the sake of the literati who take their humour seriously: "the rushes grow green-o")

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Don’t mention the war, when chez Basil,

one mentions the war at one’s peril:

it's the war Jerry started,

in Tom’s face he had farted:

yes, sauerkraut’s bouqet's far from floral!

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With corrections.

Is é an sruthan éadomhain a labhraíonn go dána,

his glass, now empty’s loudly ringing,

from shallow source, his water’s springing,

with fewer lines, his song would be finer.

Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh 9th January 2025

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Congrat’s due to you, Sir Sadiq,

The fascists’ New Year’s looking bleak,

A brown man’s been honoured,

He’s top of his manor.

Who's having a right fit of pique?

Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh 5th January 2025

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I once had a whirlwind romance,

with a snowman I’d met at a dance:

though his name, it was Dick,

he’d less carrot than stick,

and sweet bugger all in his pants.

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Government snow: lies,

shallow as their promises,

newly-fallen, melts.

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My mother had a habit, when times were bad, for example when dad had lost his job, of uttering the phrase: “God is good!”, an expression of her Christian faith and hope. The expression: “Thank God for that!”, is an everyday one of gratitude, as of course is “goodbye”, derived from “God be with you”; a similarly used Arabic phrase forms the title of my sonnet.

My republican instincts lead me to ...

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