By Richard DJJ Bowdery You were born long before you should have arrived, A gossamer life no bigger than my hand, Encased in this plastic womb, With an umbilical cord Of tubes and wires, A surrogate mother supporting your precious life. Day after day I watch over you in hope, Watching your tiny chest fall, I hold my breath… Then at last I see it rise, The monitors watch as well But I ignore them, Until they demand attention which I fear to give. This is our life though for how long who can say, Yet as each day passes we’re closer to home, My dream! But dreams are just that Which is why I won’t sleep, Until I am sure That when I awake this dream is our reality. © Richard DJJ Bowdery 2019
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- In his heart, he knew it wasn’t someone else’s fault at all That he lived in a grave, smothered and alone. But, perversely, by blaming his friends, his boss, his family, He could ladder his way out into a long gone home. HIS HOME. His island. Where he breathed free At the insufficient cost of his decrepit soul. As the rain pours down and he watches Noah in his ark float by He can hold his umbrella up, quite dry Until the flood engulps him whole.