A little glitch…
A little hitch…
Well, okay, not so “little”…
We endure…
We persevere…
We keep going…
Always knowing…
FREEDOM IS WORTH FIGHTING FOR!!!!!!
“Oh, say can you see…”
Yes, I can!!!!!
Deborah A. Bowman
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The death of my beloved pet, Molly…
Molly wearing a bracelet crown upon her wee head.
I dreamed of Molly last night. She was a kitten, running and jumping and spinning around in a beautiful garden. The first thing she said was that she had never seen the sun. Which is true… She was outside only once in all of her 20 years, and it was in the middle of a thunderstorm. She was chasing and playing with a tiny yellow butterfly. Then she thanked me for getting her help from the nice man she used to see every year. “He picked me up and hugged me and loved me like he used to do” … that’s Dr. Wahls, her veterinarian. “Then he gave me a little sharp tap (needle), and I suddenly felt good again. I thought I’d be going home to you, Mommy! I could see him and the nice lady who hugged me too, but I couldn’t move. I was calm and relaxed. The nice man was crying a little bit like you, Mommy. Just a little bit. He petted me but I couldn’t feel it. I wanted to put my head under his hand like I do with you, Mommy, when I want you to pet me and rub my ears. But I couldn’t move my head, but it was okay. I felt so much better! Then something shiny, long and thin, smaller than the pens you write stories with. He put it on my fur near my neck, but I didn’t feel anything. Then I just went to sleep like I do on our bed, Mommy, and I woke up in the sunshine. The grass whispered to me what sunshine is. Then this little creature flew over to me. We are playing tag. I am so happy here. But the flying bug with wings said Mommy couldn’t come be with me yet. I was a little sad, but the flowers showed me how to look down and see you. So Mommy you can look up and see me too, any time you want. Thank you, Mommy, for listening to me when I told you it was time to go. I didn’t think you heard me at first. But you did, and now I’m here! Oh, Mommy, guess what? I can see again! I will be with you all the time, and we can talk whenever you want to. Mommy Debbie, why are you crying? Are those happy tears? I…ROVE…U… You taught me to say that. I remember… U…ROVE…ME!”
Molly
Many of my readers who have followed me for a long time will remember my spokesperson, Molly the cat. She went to live in heaven last week after a beautiful, long life of 20 years. Molly was rescued by my father and nursed back to health after a traumatic beginning in life. She had her own video, which was seen by people all over the world.
Molly was also a character in my YA Series of Books, Delilah Astral Projection Series. She will live forever in my books.
It has taken me over a week to be able to impart my sad news to the world. I know that my Molly is in heaven. I will use the words of my own sister who is a Veterinarian. She was at her first job after getting her degree of V.M.D. from the University of Pennsylvania. A young woman approached my sister after getting the sad news that her cat had passed. “Will my cat be waiting for me in heaven?” My sister did not skip a breath or a heartbeat, but immediately said, “Would it be heaven without them?”
No, it would not be heaven without the pets in our lives. Molly is with my father Daddy Harry Bowman, who saved her life. She is also with my husband, Daddy Sidney. They all dwell in heaven together. I send my love!
Deborah A. Bowman
Tree of Life
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
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…
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.
–Deborah A. Bowman, poem and design
New covers, updated fiction and non-fiction by Deborah A. Bowman. Read FREE with Kindle Unlimited; please leave a review!
Predestination … what we signed up for in this life!
A lonely night.
A blustery wind
Blowing away what isn’t right.
Where has all the joy been?
Never fear…
It’s always been here.
We just need to open our souls
And take on the fated roles
We were blessed with
On the day of our birth.
Search within…
Let it all begin…
As was destined in the past
To relieve our rashness,
Anger, hurt, and pain.
We have chosen to refrain
From hurting and judging others.
Come in peace.
Dwell in love.
Give of thyself,
And you will know an abundance
Much greater than wealth.
Love as you would be loved.
It’s all in our destiny.
We chose wisely!
—Deborah A. Bowman Stevens
Panoramic view from Castillo del Morro in Santiago de Cuba — Shelby Burnett
Panoramic view from Castillo del Morro in Santiago de Cuba
via Panoramic view from Castillo del Morro in Santiago de Cuba — Shelby Burnett
‘Tis the Season … There’s Always a Reason!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
—Poem and final photo by Deborah A. Bowman
