Dean Bottomley Poems

I saw a Primrose today, I doubt it saw me
As it peeped, coyly from amongst the long grass.
How can such hope and promise be held
In such a small shy flower?
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If you would have the route to grand success
So you will know that always you will win.
Take butter, fifty grams, no more no less,
Then slices five of bread and put that in
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I listened to him for over an hour:
Chest out, head up, singing his soul’s feelings.
To who? Nobody listened, Nobody responded
But I did.
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How well I remember as I’m slumped in my chair:
Be’reft of movement, bereft of hair.
My bodily odors might foul the air
I’m sorry, you see I’m not offered care.
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Why is it bright? Why is the sun shining?
Why are white fluffy clothes polishing a blue sky?
Why do sunbeams play with the dew’s diamonds?
It should be dull: it should be grey.
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Why Why Why does no-one hear my screams
As I am cut by what you do and say?
But you don't know the pain and fear you cause
I want to speak, but how do I find the way?
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Scurrying, hurrying, shiny and black
A tiny head and a longer back.
Scuttling along the garden wall
Right on the edge but you don’t fall.
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The cozy feel of Christmas still lingers in the air
Though tree and present wrappings are long gone to the tip.
Some gifts were very welcome, but other cast aside.
A Simpson mug thats awful, a tie you can’t abide.
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Be still my child and rest
The world is in safe hands.
The sun has gone to warm
Children across the sea;
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Standing on the brink of tomorrow,
Perched on the edge of the unknown.
Behind is mere history, vanished, gone.
Dare one risk to go on?
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