Bob Bowers Poems
|1.||Rocking In The Sun||9/19/2009|
|2.||Rose Petals In Fall||9/19/2009|
|5.||Turning Love To Death||10/12/2009|
|9.||Johnny Plays It Like It Is||10/28/2009|
|10.||Abuse Of The Chain||11/2/2009|
|16.||Church, Of A Sunday, In May||1/5/2010|
|20.||Children Of Ghosts||10/1/2009|
|21.||Vietnam War Memorial||9/19/2009|
|26.||Growing Old Together||9/7/2009|
|27.||Mary Oliver, Poet||10/28/2009|
Comments about Bob Bowers
Mary Oliver, Poet
She asks me, in The Swan,
Whether I have figured out what beauty is for
Whether I have changed my life,
This Mary Oliver,
This woman I do not even know.
Where does she get off
Probing me like this
Seeking of me something more
Seeking of me depth of soul
Seeking of me careful thought.
Lifting off from the cool bed
In which she floated the night away
Becomes beauty incarnate
Drips diamonds from her flight
Melts into the day’s calling sun
Like Icarus clothed in his father’s wings
So long ago,
But this time, this one time, ...
It is spring.
Daffodils erupt from snow-clouded earth,
Their yellow brightness brighter
Than the warming orb of sun
Afloat in blue-bespeckled sky.
It is sugaring time in New England.
Maples, with their sweet syrup flow,
Spill out their lives,