Tree of Life

flight landscape nature sky

The Tree of Life is knocking at our door.

Look at the leaves and twigs and branches,

Intermingling and connecting to give us more

Of what we’ve had before.

Does the growth and stagnation end for new chances

To begin with new sprouts of fresh green limbs?

Rest on solid ground and gaze upward

Into the maze of branches that allow us to soar!

by Deborah A. Bowman

An Artist’s Eye and the Poet’s Voice

woman holding an instant camera
A picture is worth a thousand words!
A photographer captures essence, substance, and texture
With an artist’s eye.
We gasp our breath and wonder why
We didn’t see it like this!
There’s so much beauty to miss
If we don’t crop out the boring distractions

With a lens which highlights only the attractions!

Frame the picture with surroundings that highlight
The image we want to project.
Center it or leave it askew to delight
The imagination and tease the senses
With unique balance and no defects.
It is perfect…
It calls out to all of us who neglect
The image and fill the page with words instead.
The photographer and poet with inner reflection
View art from a different perspective.
The artist’s eye and the wordsmith’s ear
Coming together to create
What many eyes never see
And many ears do not hear.
It is not from neglect.
It is a difference of expression.
It is perfection!
by Deborah A. Bowman

In response to a recent widow on Twitter…

I suffer with you now, two years later.
Grief doesn’t die, it only softens.
We change, alter, and get stronger.
We remember when odd little things happen.
You never know what will touch your heart.
It didn’t have to be perfect. Is it ever?
All you know is you’re never apart
As long as there is love!

In Our Time of Need…

The Chivalry of Yesteryear

King Arthur, I summon thee
To return with Merlin in tow.
Come to our aid and see
Earth destroying itself as we go.
So much has happened since you went away
And promised to return.
Now is the day!
We evolved and made great strides to learn
That we really know nothing at all.

medieval armor
Welcome Arthur Back to the Round Table!

–Deborah A. Bowman, poem and design

three kings figurines
Memories of the Season: We need three wise men!






‘Tis the Season … There’s Always a Reason!

rain of snow in town painting
Even in the coldest heart, there is warmth.

It was I who was filled with doubt…

I, who never thought there was a route

That would negate…

The reason for the season.

And yet it happened

Or tried to happen.

I lost the rapture.

lighted string lights

I lost my way…

I let the pain of loss

Toss me into self-imposed exile.

I would withdraw; I would defile

The reason for the season.

shallow focus photography of religious figurines
Photo by Jessica Lewis on

It started with my antique nativity scene.

Just one decoration to calm me.

One reason for the season as balm.

The birth of life in the face of death.

But somehow, unwillingly, the rest

Of my meagre symbols just followed.


cold snow holiday winter
He loved snowmen!

A top hat, a woolen scarf, a carrot for a nose,

But it was the coal-filled eyes and etched smile

That reached into my cold heart and rose

Like a beacon of light through the darkened miles,

Bringing warmth to my emptiness.


bonfire burning burnt campfire
The yuletide log burning bright into the night.

Something thawed or I was left in awe

Of the reason for the season.

It was so much greater than all my pain!

My boycott faded like snow emerging from the rain,

Soft white petals of cleansing snowflakes.

person holding a snowflake
A snowflake to remind me.

A whisper of breath through a shadowy room;

Bright white candles to dispel the gloom,

A reason for the season.

And suddenly I knew he was with the angels

And watching me caress the snowmen

As I had touched his cold hand for the last time.

The widow smiled through her tears

And tucked away her anger and fear.

I will never be alone

For there are many reasons

… For the season.

It was a year ago…

But just as poignant today.

Never let go of the reason for the season.

advent advent wreath burn burnt
The lights of Christmas.
This is my living room today!

 —Poem and final photo by Deborah A. Bowman

“Phoebe Snow – Poetry Man” — AMERICA ON COFFEE

Phoebe Snow (born Phoebe Ann Laub; July 17, 1950 – April 26, 2011 was an American singer, songwriter, and guitarist, best known for her 1975 song “Poetry Man”. She was described by The New York Times as a “contralto grounded in a bluesy growl and capable of sweeping over four octaves.” Professional life It was […]

via “Phoebe Snow – Poetry Man” — AMERICA ON COFFEE

Great research and blog on Phoebe Snow! Check it out!

Thank you,


One Evolutionary Step Forward…

man with wings standing on brown mountain peak
One! Evolution of Revelation
And when two bodies allow each “self” to come completely  undone…
The universe will open in all its brilliant magnificence…
Behind closed, blind eyes we will see omnipresence…
With the merging of two souls to create a thriving, striving new “one”…
So refined, the next evolution…
Not defined, in flux, growing; showing the future of mankind…
Merging, surging, purging, uniting in constitution…
Two bodies release in a frenzied gasp to unwind…
Creating a third entity of unique compilation.
As man is succumbed to let his maleness find its throne…
He will finally know that he has reached his home…
As woman takes her King deep into her soul…
She will know they have each found their separate, yet combined, roles…
In the “other”; in the creation; in the being that will be far-reaching…
Beseeching the gods on high to impart their oneness to mere mortals…
Stretching the boundaries of Infinity to birth the new portal…
That will forever foresee and usher in the golden age of transmutation.
As the bread became the body and the wine His sacred blood…
So will the evolved man and woman go forth…
To find the paradise paradigm…
That which dwells in the heart of an enlightened, blameless entity…
To stop the revolution, bringing peace and harmony to reign…
As it was in the beginning…
Before death and destruction tore the world asunder.
It is not our lot to question why…
Nor our time to speculate and wonder…
We bow before the gods of creation…
Singing the joys of a “new” Revelation.
We will not die in fire and destruction…
We will transform desire into that which should have been…
Before the havoc of mindless weakness and sin.
There will be no “sin”…
Just souls of light…
Put down your weapons, implements of fight or flight…
Rejoice in the “other”…
Reunite with “another”…
To manifest the soul with no being…
The body with no shroud…
The essence of a goddess and a god…
Evolution of Revelation.
By Deborah A. Bowman
white concrete buddha statue