Grenfell – Night Thoughts

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As the sweet summer breeze

blows through this petrified charcoal edifice

stirring the parched remains of the perished

inside this crematorium created by man’s greed,

 

We who are in temporary sleep

slowly inhaling the dust of the lost

unlike God, offering not the breath of life

Yet not forgotten, becoming part of us

 

Fused into our very being

scorched into our souls

as the seared conscience

of those that govern

offers no honour, shame, guilt

or Judas-like, intestine-spilling torment!

Instead scurrying like rats

under the tarpaulin of fear

 

Light exposing their hidden deeds of darkness

that atomized men, women and children before their time

those who’s bodies can no longer cast shadows

 

Your eternal flame

forever burns brightly

shining like stars

guiding both seeker and wise

along the narrow path

in their quest for the truth…

 

 

M.C. Bolton, 28th July 2017

Photo by Hugh

Grenfell

Not just people, their homes

but dreams, futures snuffed out

unlike the flames

that wrapped their unmerciful wings

around the tower without pity or care

the angel of death

resurrected by learned men’s folly

once again the poor suffering

above their station

swept aside like spent poker chips

as the midnight gambler

shuffles into the shadows

to pay his debt

to the reaper

who tonight had his fill

Yet the morning comes

bringing the dew of hope

for out of these embers

will rise men and women of faith

not just in God

but in justice

as the ashes of those

that were loved

are blown into the

eternal palace of peace

 

MC Bolton, 2017

 

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Art by Junion Tomlin

Good Friday

Running my fingers

through the corn of my mind,

seeds sown over many years

mixed with the weeds of insecurity,

these golden fields swaying in the breeze

like ghosts of lost souls underground

awaiting final call and judgement,

may the petals of heaven’s flowers

forever be my rain,

as I slowly march from another time

into battle once again,

fighting thine enemies within,

this poor man’s soul, wounded mind

standing strong in hope,

faltering faith made firm by Gods eternal love

M C Bolton

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Bole Hill Quarry, Peak District

Reflections

To float away into the mist

Upon a piece of driftwood

made smooth by my inner tears

Guided by moonbeams

to the ends of the earth

falling into the abyss of dreams

rescued by God’s mighty hand

placed upon the rock of my faith

Yet this world takes its toll

upon my heart, my soul, my mind

fearing the depths my thoughts

dive into…

Ripples of eternal love

Forever lapping upon the shore

As the sun warms my

ever changing face

never changing heart

that cares for my created…

 

Mark Bolton, February 2017 

 

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Death

Slowly entering the tunnel of light

realising it is all over

my life transformed to another dimension

with a fleeting breath

time no longer has dominion

nor sin trouble my flesh

it will come,

it will come for us all

no matter our position, faith, race or creed

the ultimate reality

the fiercest internal mirror

reflecting every deed

truth’s final victory

blowing a violent wind into my ears

into my soul

as I scream in death

as I did in birth,

yet this a cry of freedom

like Christ it is finished

his blood pulling me closer to God’s love,

in him my only hope….

 

M.C. Bolton 31.1.2017

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Photo by Sibvu

Christmas 1914 Meets 2016

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Christmas day ww1 football, photo taken from here

Oh! Let us find our no man’s land

deep within our soul.

Just a moment’s fleeting peace

even for one day.

Feeling the futility of constant war

mustard gas mist lingering like madness,

hatred, fear, despair stoked by desk generals,

rulers of but dust – egg timer imprisoned,

carving pal’s battalions into race, religion, class.

Like a crazed Biology tutor

dissecting a locust,

as we slowly evolve

into twenty-fingered cyborgs

quickening our movements

into our own Galaxy or Apple of Eden’s Fruit,

our third eye now just a screen,

for now only the blind truly see,

snowmen who show more compassion

slowly melting in the heat of constant lies,

over the top once more my friends.

Shelling ceasing – exploding petals of death

no longer falling like rain,

churning men into mud 

devoid of God’s breath of life,

so walk with me

take my hand.

Finding eternal peace once more

as we march into no man’s land…

 

MC Bolton, Christmas 2016

Stillborn (for Joey)

Oh! Wait for me my little one

beside those heavenly gates

your mother’s womb your only home

such was your blessed fate

in death you found a wondrous birth

entering heaven’s sacred halls

where angels keep you safe and warm

to that dimension born

not to know the pains of life

or mankind fallen – flawed

now swaddled only in peace and love

in all its purest form

nor feeling loss so brutal cruel

Your heart in two is torn

So wait for me my little one

beside those heavenly gates

where this wounded soul once more

can pull you to his chest

united again forever more

in your eternal rest…

 

M.C. Bolton, November 1, 2016

 

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