Repeating Patterns

(The shirt referred to in this poem, is now in my profile picture)


On the flight path from his junior school,

William looked, with interest, at the shirt I wore,

“That’s a repeating pattern, grandad.

Yellow, white, blue, red, and green!”

“My flabber is well and truly gasted, William,

You’re the brightest boy I’ve ever seen!”


Life’s recurring patterns crop up, remorselessly.

Addictions arrive and soon take hold,

Dogging us, until we are grey, old,

And utterly broken, beyond repair,

In endlessly repeating patterns:

Longing, hope, failure, despair.

Belief, engagement, trust, betrayal.

The same old stories everywhere.


We make mistakes and call this ‘fate.’

Negative patterns which we, ourselves, create.

Like the cityscape backdrops used in ‘Top Cat,’

The self-same scenes go round and around,

Over and over and over again,

As familiar as the Yorkshire rain!


God speed you, William, in all you do.

I hope your patterns are of a brighter hue,

That your sunny smile will see you through.


Go forth and make some patterns anew.





◄ Alone, in a bar.

A Walk, to Remember ►


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John Botterill

Mon 4th Jul 2022 21:46

Thanks for the like John C 😀

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John Botterill

Mon 4th Jul 2022 17:00

Thanks Stephen. Your comments always mean a lot to me. 😀

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Stephen Gospage

Mon 4th Jul 2022 07:05

This is quite profound, John, with a bit of humour. I liked it a lot.

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John Botterill

Sun 3rd Jul 2022 23:40

Thanks KJ, Stephen and Sarah for the likes. 😀

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John Botterill

Sun 3rd Jul 2022 05:56

Thanks Carol. Glad I included my flabber. I did wonder...
I really value your comment.
Thanks, too, Holden, Frederick, Julie and Rose for the likes. 😀

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Carol Congalton

Sat 2nd Jul 2022 23:57

Thought provoking in many ways John.
'“My flabber is well and truly gasted, William,' ~ this line made me smile!

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