Ben Barton Poems

My father is a stranger to me
He never turns-up uninvited
Sitting cautiously on the sofa
Genteel.
...

echoes
from a room
of silence
...

The forgotten birth after me,
a pair
was my twin
Ignored; they stared at me
...

The balloon rises,
filthy air
The glint of cobble
caught in her hair
...

These men are children
Sixty years in childhood; lined at their nebulizers
fed, watered and wiped
By the nurses.
...

Nod in agreement, an ode to Mr Wilde
The architecture of a Church vessel, two halves neatly laid.
Norman arches, cascading in green mould
Hymn numbers on damp card, worn edges and over-thumbed
...

She stacked the sale items
one by one
and waited for the monday rush...
...