Ian Bowen


Ian Bowen Poems

81. Having Made The Error 2/5/2010
82. Mind Fill (For Lynda Robson) 2/5/2010
83. My Best Seller 2/1/2010
84. Conceived 1/31/2010
85. Do You Remember Summer? 2/1/2010
86. Going Out Of Fashion 1/16/2010
87. I Blew No Horn* 2/19/2010
88. Care 2/21/2010
89. Hoar Frost 2/24/2010
90. Something Gentle 1/30/2010
91. Girls In Wet Boots 2/12/2010
92. Someone For Dinner* 2/13/2010
93. Sleepless 2/4/2010
94. The Egg Hunter 2/9/2010
95. Watered Down Blue 2/5/2010
96. Mist (Haiku) 2/7/2010
97. In Attendance 2/8/2010
98. Losing Friends And Lovers 2/1/2010
99. Drink And Drown 2/2/2010
100. Night Owl 2/3/2010
101. Before The Storm 2/3/2010
102. Left In The Dark 2/21/2010
103. Death! ...You Thief 2/15/2010
104. Advancement? 1/28/2010
105. Addictive Words 1/18/2010
106. Traces (Haiku) 1/16/2010
107. To All My Creditors 12/30/2009
108. Poet On A Bus 2/2/2010
109. On Poems... I Don'T Understand 2/4/2010
110. Written In Envy 2/8/2010
111. Remind Me To Remember 2/5/2010
112. Clarence The Artist 12/30/2009
113. ***a Dark Horse*** 2/10/2010
114. A Tired Observation 2/4/2010
115. ***rent Day*** 1/16/2010
116. A Poor Poet 2/6/2010
117. ***my Dream Girl*** 2/18/2010
118. Above A Sleeping World 2/22/2010
119. A Seasonal Look* 2/13/2010
120. A Need For Further Investigation 2/3/2010

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

A Poem About Nothing

I want to write a poem about 'nothing'
(not an easy thing to do) .
I want to describe the emptiness
that I've found since I lost you.
The crashing waves of ecstasy
will me missing from my verse.
There will no expletive adjectives
or headless-chicken curse.
The glorification of life's scenery
will be omitted from this page.
I will not mention the 'seven wonders'
or some ancient, historic age.

I will simpy be negative
and just scribble what comes out.
Leave you hopelessly pondering...

what this poem is all about

Read the full of A Poem About Nothing

***dying Of Time***

Now in my grey-haired heart,
Flows the blood of seasons past.

Those pastoral beats, that once surged
In a sea of windmill leaves.

My haygold, harvest days, warmed
My cockles; all splashed in sun.

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