Ian Bowen

Ian Bowen Poems

41. Written In Envy 2/8/2010
42. Only When The Neighbours Are Away 2/8/2010
43. Haiku...Love 2/13/2010
44. A Seasonal Look* 2/13/2010
45. Grave Promises 2/13/2010
46. Someone For Dinner* 2/13/2010
47. Willowmead Road 2/13/2010
48. The Great Lover* 2/13/2010
49. I Never Got A Valentine 2/14/2010
50. Only 'One' Card 2/14/2010
51. Ordinary Man* 2/14/2010
52. Changing The Last Page* 2/14/2010
53. From Memory 2/14/2010
54. Haiku* 2/15/2010
55. 'W' (Haiku) 2/15/2010
56. Red In The Forest* 2/15/2010
57. With Best Intentions 2/15/2010
58. Death! ...You Thief 2/15/2010
59. Hope* 2/16/2010
60. Putrid Circus 2/16/2010
61. I Am No Shadow Of A Man 2/9/2010
62. Cocky! 2/9/2010
63. In The Right Place 2/9/2010
64. Memories Of Blackbeard 2/9/2010
65. No Need For A Valentine 2/9/2010
66. The Egg Hunter 2/9/2010
67. ***a Dark Horse*** 2/10/2010
68. Static As The Ink In A Dead Poet's Pen, 2/10/2010
69. Next Door's Dog 2/10/2010
70. Icicles (Haiku) 2/10/2010
71. The Sea, The Moon And Me 2/11/2010
72. Seeing Mum Again 2/11/2010
73. My Last Dream* 2/16/2010
74. ***varying Emotions*** 2/16/2010
75. Only Life* 2/16/2010
76. Another Day Nearer 2/16/2010
77. The Wife Is Poorly (The Shopping Is Down To Me) 2/17/2010
78. Before The Storm 2/3/2010
79. A Need For Further Investigation 2/3/2010
80. It Must Be Hard On My Slippers** 2/18/2010

Comments about Ian Bowen

  • Lynda Robson (1/25/2008 6:09:00 AM)

    I am a great fan of Ian's poetry. He has a way of expressing his thoughts, whatever the theme. I would recommend anyone taking a look at Ian's work, I'm sure they won't be disappointed.
    I echo Will's words.

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  • Will Barber (4/10/2007 5:00:00 AM)

    Ian Bowen's poetry moves through concrete, particular images to the universal. Whether he writes of boyhood or of his mature years, a constant theme emerges - deeply felt experiences, expressed compactly in in vivid, utterly convincing detail.

    Pathos, humor, and sheer narrative skill distinguish his verses - deeply felt, and eloquently expressed.

Best Poem of Ian Bowen

Nature's Repetition*

Time lays dry in the fields
as a long Summer gasps
in choking clouds
of windswept polen.
The tall grasses
bow and wave goodbye
to this years seeds
as they float, then land
on the empty, arid spaces
of a new land.

Like unborn children
they are nourished
in natures womb.
The cord; their roots,
that feed and suck
on the sustinance;
bequithed by
dead ancectors, who
died on the crosses
of last years harvest.

Read the full of Nature's Repetition*

Clarence The Artist

Each rain soaked cobblestone reflected a midnight moon
as total darkness hid between the close, claustrophobic walls of alleyways.
A single stage rattled to a stop.
The smokey breath of stallions, cut through the evening chill,
twirling upwards like some forest fire.
A bag, full of different shaped knives were lifted from inside the carriage,
wrapped in the leather of the bovine dead.

He walked tall in his high hat, cape dragging the ground,

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