My Writer’s Life Story

My story is everyone’s poem.

My characters grow, evolve, roam

Just as we all do.

Emotions rising that finally flew

From the nest and took to the sky!

My story, my poem, my life is why…

I thrive and survive!

–Deborah A. Bowman

white clouds and blue sky
Emotion in the Sky!

 

 

The Woman … What does she seek? (Poetry and Watercolor)

IMG_20200804_192054_hdr_kindlephoto-27223583
What does she seek?

Her vision is intense and defined.

Is that stone wall rising before her eyes

Really there or only in her mind?

I can feel the pressure in her breast as she sighs.

The tree behind her has lost its leaves.

Stark weathered branches reaching to the sky.

Is that a symbol for whom she grieves?

Does she even know or wonder why?

The pine brings life into her reach,

But she is looking away from the greenery.

What is above her that she doth seek?

What turns her away from the luscious scenery?

Is it real or is it merely how she feels?

Grief … the consummate, ultimate thief. 

–Deborah A. Bowman

 

 

Time is of the essence!

Time marches on!

brass pocket watches
Tick Tock

Time transcends into our lives.

We either have too much

Or emptiness seems to thrive

Into all the such and such

That envelopes our essence.

How do we hit “refresh”?

 

Wouldn’t it be sweet

If we could set back the clocks

To give us days and weeks

Years and decades to rock

Our world into submission?

We are left in derision…

 

Too much times on our hands

Can be useless and boring.

Not enough time lands

Us in chaos, soaring

Us into obsession

Or hopeless depression.

 

The system doesn’t seem fair.

How did it become so flawed?

We really have to care

On the seconds we trod

Upon that add up to nothing.

No one, no hope, no feelings, nothing.

 

A silent death

That steals the rest

Of our shining essence.

You guessed it!

We have wasted away bit by bit.

woman looking at sea while sitting on beach
Lost in time, conceived in rhyme.

By Deborah A. Bowman

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Understanding

 

woman comforting friend
Show you care by Understanding

Understanding is a complex theory.

Figuring it out can make one weary.

Because what I understand

And what you understand

May be exact opposites in design.

There is no reason or rhyme

For up and down

And all around.

Just know that basic truths

Will always be the proof.

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
cropped-antique-quill-and-ink3.jpg

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!

“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, https://americaoncoffee.wordpress.com/2019/11/27/phoebe-snow-poetry-man/

 

Dear Diary; Dear Journal… Your most intimate sharing of your innermost thoughts and feelings … with yourself!

“Where You Write” is just as important as what you write and to whom, but must we always share?

Perhaps, perhaps; yet there are some words only meant for the crisp, clean page that holds the coveted position in a comfortable room, only for you–Dear Diary; Dear Journal, “Hi, there!”

My eyes drift shut for just a moment; dawn has not yet arrived…

I inhale all my other senses in a deep breath–a taste of energy in total silence, a hint of chill, the heady smell of fresh shellac, easily survived…

The scent of raw, lightly treated wood beams, an arched ceiling, floors with a dab of  shiny gloss, immaculate…

It calms my mind and thrills my spirit because I know I can write anything here or even write nothing at all, but the dilemma … to share or retract?

Is everything set up in order on the familiar desk? Yes…

Do I lift the proverbial quill or pen, tap softly on muted keys or simply rest?

But where will the story go if I don’t rush, rush, rush to complete the piece?

Will another writer jot down these stories and give it release?

To spread the full wings of creativity

Where stories are possible; the paranormal in true believability…

To dwell for a brief moment in a time continuum…

Deep poignant thoughts are challenged or read in awe or disgust, hardly humdrum…

If I can see, feel, visualize, live so very much in my own mind

Is it my duty to share my words with all humankind?

A conundrum, ta’ be sure, giving and receiving inspiration

Through rigorous thought, tears, laughter, perspiration…

But do I dare? My Journal, a constant companion; My Diary, dear old friend…

Will people understand my thoughts and or even care in the end?

by Deborah A Bowman

brown notebook in between of a type writer and gray and black camera
A scene from yesteryear…

Thursday…

Thursday is the little niggle

Of excitement, looking forward to the weekend.

“It is almost upon us,” you giggle…

Time for planning, invitations to send,

To do more than is possible, of course.

But it is light-hearted consideration,

Harming none and enjoying the sensation

Of looking forward with exhilaration

To Friday eve, Saturday, Sunday.

This is where the mind is at on Thursday… Enjoy!

silhouette photography of group of people jumping during golden time
Photo by Belle Co on Pexels.com