Ian Bowen Poems

After reading,
it would be hard
to express my feelings.
...

The poet with a bus pass,
boarded the number 63
that left from the edge of the town.
Now he rushed red, scraping
...

There came a day
where those once important things
sat on the back shelf,
covered in the dust of lethargy.
...

How lucky you are,
smeared in a sickly talent.
Tell me!
I must know;
...

Advancement!
That’s a bloody laugh.
Give me back
the old days….
...

Sad, how this
as turned out,
I could have sworn
that this was the Real McCoy,
...

On this hill
I now stand free
from the smell of hustle 'n' bustle
fume filled cities.
...

As night becomes an extinction of the sun,
The battle against tiredness, has now begun.
Black clouds the sleeper, tars the skies,
Forcing the closure of disobedient eyes.
...

The village now sleeps
amid the shadows
of moonlight lit trees.
A feather from a night owl
...

It was one of those moments
when nothing moved.
Silence held its breath,
and any sign of a breeze
...