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?

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

 

 

 

 

 

The poetry goes on… We will never die…

cropped-antique-quill-and-ink3.jpg
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

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

 

 

 

 

 

Bowmanauthor’s 4th of July Poem … Strike Up the Band!

 

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

The JOHN HANCOCK is signed

We can easily find

The names quilled in ink

But does it make you think?

Our country needs everyone

To take a deep breath, exhale

And set out on a new trail

Listen to the wind blowing through parched minds

As it clears away the boundaries and lines

We are all citizens of the United States of America

We are all one, whole, connected, searching for Utopia

There may not be Utopia, but there isn’t Dystopia

We can rearrange; we can change or stay the same

It’s all up to you

To do what you believe to be true

Every heart, every soul, every red-blooded American girl or boy

Reach out your hand; take a stand; embrace each other with love and joy

I am alone this 4th of July

But if I cry

They will be tears of redemption

That will fill my emptiness

United We Stand

Strike Up the Band!

 

poem by Deborah A. Bowman