Apocalypse fallen on the earth

What if? Will the flowers bloom again after the Apocalypse? A small piece of descriptive, deep imagery. We humans need to heed the warnings and save our earth. My two cents … bowmanauthor/bowmaneditor.

Check out the incredible writings by William Johnson, https://storiesoffantasy.com

Stories of ecstasy

The world was cracking apart, and breaking into two. It felt as if lighting came dashing over this world, and a shining light filled our eye site. The human kind were born to make this world better not to cause destruction. Ashes all round the place, the fire blazing and the screams of the people echoing back every time i take a step forward. The people deeply buried under the buildings and the fire is taking over us to handle this Earth better. But nobody knows what may happen to this world. What will happen after the humans are wiped out from this earth. What? Something humongous just raised out from the land like it is the almighty god and has always been there for us. The flowers blossomed again, the trees cherished. Beauty was rising from the ashes.

Photo by Stefan Stefancik on Pexels.com

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The Humanity of Words

A computer will never take the place of a human wordsmith/editor. Robots and artificial intelligence cannot duplicate the true emotion that lives in the connotative nuances of words. Only the heart and soul can breathe life into black-and-white ink splotches on a crumbled page which will become art, drama, perception, persuasion, and pre-cognition. It is our history, our current timeline, and our future. The human brain and Universal mind produces words that sing, inform, rejoice, or weep; sometimes, most often heard in the silent pauses between descriptive utterances of voice and breath.

Hence, the philosophy of one lone humble poet and writer, “bowmanauthor/bowmaneditor”.

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Winter Wonderland…

Snow nestled in silent hills

Silence in the frozen chill

Awake to the dawn of a wonderland

Beneath a sky painted by nature’s hand

Your whispered breath on the window pane

Mist of tears in your eyes gain

Momentum, then fall in heaves and sighs

You want to share the heightened emotion

But all that you see is your  own devotion

He would have loved the snow

For he had no where to go

Now he dwells at heaven’s door

Asking nothing, feeling the cold no more

Deborah A. Bowman

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The Book…

simple book
So much more than blank pages!

Open the page

Let in the light

Let yourself gaze

At all that is bright

The wisdom within

The happiness it brings

All the places we have been

Fit for Queens and Kings

A book is magic

On every page

Harmony and wit

Divine, wondrous, sage…

Deborah A. Bowman, bowmanauthor

Historical Questions

The Past and How It Affects the Future

Gone are the days of history…

by Deborah A. Bowman

Gone are the days of yesteryear.
Gone are smiles, miles, tears and fears.
We of the present can learn from history.
Those of the future will fulfill our destiny.
The past comes alive as sins and wins are repeated.
Triumphs are heralded; Foes are defeated.
If only we could stop the challenges.
If only we could heighten the balances.
It makes me wonder as I ponder,
If all on earth have wandered
These paths before in yesteryear
And have returned with our hopes and fears.
History repeats itself,
But we remain ourselves
Through thick and thin, but in different skins.
Reacting the same way as we begin
Lifetimes in new bodies, when we are given
A chance to redeem our numerous sins
Or spread truth and love, strong and sage,
As we enter life in a future age.
Will I live again
Or is this the end?

Lost in reflection…

Looking back, could I have done something more?

Something different?

Something besides staring at the floor

Covered in needles, adrenaline vials spent?

Plastic wrappers tossed aimlessly

My life shattered shamelessly

But I didn’t even think about me

His body, now removed, was all I could see

I did no wrong

But he was gone.

I bent down and cleaned up the mess

Left by those who took him to his final rest.

 

What’s on the inside?

 

abendstimmung ball shaped clouds dawn
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