What’s on the inside?

 

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Are you caught on a surreal bubble?

What’s inside and what’s ouside?

Sure makes for a tumultuous ride!

What is up and what is down?

As you’re spinning all around

Looking inside yourself through a surreal bubble

Are you okay? Are you in real trouble?

Or have you split in two?

I think the dilemma is that you don’t know who…

You are … when you face yourself enclosed

In the psyche of another, the other

As the bubble grows…

Grief is like a rose

Be warned of the thorns

 

 

 

 

 

The poetry goes on… We will never die…

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The power of the quill never dies

We worry the quill will dry out

The inkpot break or crumble to dust

We fidget, grumble, fear, shout!

But hush, hush; don’t rush…

Stand still, inhale the rich, warm fumes

That fill the air and allow words to bloom

Do not panic too soon

The poetry will sigh

We will never die.

Deborah A. Bowman

The Sun Will Shine Down Upon Me Again

The Rays Are Reaching Out

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The Glory of the Sun in Our Lives

The Sun came up this morning, but I was mourning

So I didn’t see its glory and its warming

I wanted to ignore the rays’ beauty

For I felt it was my duty

Then for months, it rained in many ways

From storms and clouds to tears and fears

But I’m reaching out today and seeing the Sun’s rays

The Sun will shine down upon me again

Though I don’t know why or even when

But I see a smile from heaven above

Sending me joy, cherished messages, and love

“Go ahead and let the Sun shine

Reach out, it’s time…”

To let the Sun seep into my being

It begins with truly seeing

What has come before

What’s left that’s more

Going forward and noticing the glow

Rather than denying the beauty I know

The Glory of God is in the sky

I’m not hiding, nor asking why

I must see … and be…

Even when I cry…

Deborah A. Bowman

 

 

 

 

 

Borrowed Time…

You hear these two words quite often

Are they meant to soften

The inevitable?

The unpredictable?

The eventually?

The harsh reality?

So many questions and no answers to be found

So we ponder and wonder…

Maybe we’re not living on “borrowed time”

Maybe we’re meant to be!

Destined to see…

Blessed to spend our lives

In the beauty of strength and drive

To become more than just “killing time”

Deborah A. Bowman

 

 

 

 

 

Remembering…

    You dare for a moment to hope that you see
    The hint of a glimmer at the end of a tunnel
    Then, quick as a shimmer of lightning can be
    A memory surfaces and funnels
    Into your happy place
    You look in the mirror at your own face
    It is  troubled, sad, distraught
    No matter how hard you’ve fought
    To get beyond this hurdle
    Your beliefs sacred and fertile
    You feel you should be beyond this
    But you’re lost once again in a phantom’s wish
    Remembering…
woman looking at mirror
hoto by Jennifer Murray on Pexels.com