Kester Brewin

Category: Poems

  • Imaginary: A New Poem

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    Imaginary The impossibility of finding the root of all that is negative in me; the move into a new plane only a symbolic trick that extends us all into the realm of the imaginary; a mathematical slight of hand: you invented complexity, smiled wryly as you wrote it and called it i.

  • ‘The Purpose of Life’ according to Nick Hornby

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    KB
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    England draw against the USA – life doesn’t lose all meaning at this point, but it’s great to have good cheer restored in me by, in an act of footballing-literary serendipity, Nick Hornby. His Stuff I’ve Been Reading column in The Believer each month was a genuine highlight. Always funny, always erudite, always an inspiration…

  • Ash In Our Mouths

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    Been thinking a lot about the ash cloud that continues to disrupt air-travel the world over. Perhaps it is a good time to reflect and reconsider our relationship to this under-lyingly chaotic earth. Ash in our Mouths Sintered earth, burned and pure is thrown up as if the earth’s guts have sickened, had enough, and…

  • Two Robbers

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    KB
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    I am both robbers right and left accusing and scheming pitying and arrogant, wanting him to save me, wondering why he didn’t save himself, empathising with the pain, mocking, frightened, pleading guilty, condemned, argumentative an innocent man somewhere lost in the middle of all this; dark days to follow, brighter days promised: ‘remember me’ all…

  • Advent[ures] in Incarnation [10] | Brother Hare by Katherine Venn

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    I absolutely love this advent poem by Katherine Venn. She’s currently doing a Masters in poetry at the University of East Anglia, and keeping a blog of the experience over at Minute Particulars. Brother Hare Born with your clothes on, trembling in your scrape, wide eyes open, soft, as new things are, warm; alone, pressed…

  • Advent[ures] in Incarnation [8] | Advent Poem | Post-Partum

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    KB
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    Post-Partum Amniotics spilt, and semiotics rupture; there are no words, just raw screams and suckles. Child of God, child of man – no difference: new life is unmoored emotion, a wide sea of tears and sick, and just one desire: to feed, gather in, be mother-close. But God won’t stay. Controlled crying; separation an immediate…