John Bolton

John Bolton is a newcomer to the poetry scene. He is currently working towards his first collection, Handcuffed to the Night. He is a Hoist erector and would love to be a writer full time.

Penny Rose

 

i.m Bev Knutton

 

 

Angels have arrived,

one touch of thier hands diminished your pain.

Love starts this way. Fitting life should end

 

the same. Now the edges you smoothed

get harder everyday. The summer sky

a towering inferno, the grass all made of blades.

 

Love is holding the bloom, even though the flower has withered.

 

Your face gave me an embrace

no words could explain. For our deeds there’s no song

they could sing us, but the street light still

 

searches for darkness. He wouldnt want to see

me weak. He wouldnt want to see me cry.

Now, like stars through the day, I know you are there –

 

its just when times are darkest, your presence

is more clear. You shared the cartoon of creation through

the colour of your imagination.

 

Your bluebird that found freedom

in our little room. Now you have stopped time

like a train. I’m a teenager whose feelings are graffiti

 

but all I can write is your name.

Without you music is mute,

a ballet of swans, heads bowed, moving down river.

 

Love is holding the bloom, even though the flower has withered.