Dean Bottomley

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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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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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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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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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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The mark still shows where once you head was laid.
Alongside that made by my own skull.
A tender moment shared by two who love.
Etched in a down filled bag.
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The rain may cool the hidden bashful sun
And grey may be the sky that covers me.
Like tears the water down my face may run
Yet all is light and joy that I can see.
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Today I stood on Cheese Foot Head
And looked towards the sea.
I cast my eye across the land
That lay twixt there and me.
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It was a hard journey, and painful too.
It lasted the best part of a year.
Sickness and pain, mainly in the back.
The heat of late summer did not make it any easier.
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Everyone needs a place to hide,
Away from the world and all its woes.
A place to rest and maybe dream,
A place to escape which no-one knows.
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Once I held a wonder in my hands
It was not mine but was, for that brief time, for me.
Beauty, wonder, a feast for heart and eye
Mine to care for, cherish, love, and for me to love.
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Bourne on a summer breeze
The scent of new mown hay.
Cow parsley’s aniseed like smell;
Honeysuckle in the dusk.
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When I traverse this God blest place in which I live;
A walk or ride through beauty so sublime.
I do not travel solo, with me you go:
To share the walk or ride two on a bike.
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Brooding, smoldering, deep lying in secret: .
Always there, waiting, watching for the moment.
Strong, powerful, and just below the surface
Coiled, tensioned, poised. Ready to attack!
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The Station cat opens one eye with a frown,
Disturbed as the Starter and Distant drop down.
The gas lamps still hiss, and a distant dog barks
The town Is a resting, wrapped up in the dark.
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