New releases from Laura Veirs, The Waterboys, and Yard Act
Shrapnel
Neil Young
My granny’s elbow defied the Luftwaffe,
caught a spear of molten shrapnel lead
that ricocheted through the front room window
and would’ve struck her cradled Betty’s head
if she had turned that instant to the right.
That night in 1940, streets turned red
with gales of flame. Lord Haw-Haw laughed
there’d been “Easter eggs” dropped on Belfast.
Next day the toll was near nine hundred dead
– and not an anti-aircraft gun in sight;
by Rosie Jackson
ANDY CROFT welcomes the publication of an anthology of recent poems published by the Morning Star, and hopes it becomes an annual event
RUTH AYLETT reviews two collections of outright political poetry
TONY FOX invites readers to come and hear the story of the remarkable Liverpudlian International Brigader Alexander Foote


