University of Bolton Poetry Competition Winners
Theme – Light
Famine Weavers
My grandmother saw them gather once,
their restless particles forming in fog.
Awakened by frost dressing rooftops
like a knocker-up tapping on glass.
Murmuring shades, ragged skeletal moths,
dancing slowly in hisses of gas light.
Grouped tight to keep the living out,
reflecting in mill windows and puddles.
Clogs echoing on wet cobblestones,
Mee-maws hollowing into the night.
Shirley-Anne Kennedy – first year Creative Writing Student
Guidelines for Gazing at Sunsets
There is an art to watching sunsets.
First one must set aside time;
Some planning and patience are essential
Lest the moment be missed
And the glory of sun-gilded clouds
Pass before contemplation has begun.
A warm jumper may be necessary.
A vantage point is useful but need not be
Static as it is important to scan the heavens
So as not to miss those regions of the sky
Where stratospheric scarlet feathers fly
Unfurling in the luminous air.
The head must be free to turn, look up and view
The vast vault of overarching blue.
An ability to wait and let go of expectations,
To see what’s there, is best,
(Rather than demand, “More red, more gold!”)
To welcome unexpected tawny rusts and glooming greys,
The plum and peach and damson of autumnal gloaming.
You cannot hurry the old sun – he will
Take his time, fulfil his role and depart.
John Casson, Writer
The Golden Sun
The golden sun
Sets low tonight,
As the magnificent moon
Starts to shine bright.
The golden sun
Sets low tonight,
As the sound of the crickets
Give my brother a fright!
The golden sun
Sets low tonight,
As the whirling wind
Blows away our kite.
The golden sun
Sets low tonight,
As my dog, Buster
Gives his bone a terrible bite
By Isobel Richards
Age 10
CW@UB 