Category: Poems
-
Advent[ures] in Incarnation [10] | Brother Hare by Katherine Venn
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
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…
-
Advent[ures] in Incarnation [3] | Advent Poem | Caesarean Sections
Caesarean Sections The bitter old man stands at the gates of the earth waiting, watching, guarding the only entrance and exit to this citadel planet. The babies file in and the dead file out and he watches them, grimly keeping count. He watches, he waits he shivers to shake tired cold from old limbs, for…
-
Remembrance Day Poem | We Should F-ing Remember Them
Remembrance Day Poem With our scalpels and injections, We shall not grow old, as those that are left behind grow old With our prozac and uppers, our sweetened memories and revisionist histories Age shall not weary us, nor the years of war condemn At the going down of the sun and in the morning We…
-
#NationalPoetryDay – Pressure
It’s National Poetry Day. I scoured my files for something I’d written recently that probably wouldn’t find an airing anywhere else, and decided on this. A sad poem, written on hearing of a friend of someone I teach who’d been paralysed while diving in the sea in Portugal. I’ll not say more than that. Pressure…
-
New Poem | Small Screen Communion
Small Screen Communion iPod, phone held close and thumbed, reflecting so dimly on lichened branches fingering the above, are such small lights on these paths at night. What possible guidance could they offer? Yet still I look, still we look, so intently at their ever-decreasing thinness and ask of them the same as wafers once…