Ian Bowen

Ian Bowen Poems

121. A Need For Further Investigation 2/3/2010
122. A Sign Of The Times* 2/20/2010
123. Achieved 2/24/2010
124. ...And You 2/24/2010
125. ***varying Emotions*** 2/16/2010
126. ***shopping With An Angel*** 2/24/2010
127. ***poetic Suicide*** 2/24/2010
128. A Merry Widow 2/3/2010
129. A Third Helping Of Pork 2/2/2010
130. A Queen For The Day 2/7/2010
131. A Slave To Temptation* 2/17/2010
132. ***the Grasslands Of Tranquility*** 1/7/2010
133. ***i Remember Crying In My Sleep*** 2/16/2010
134. ***alternative Rhapsody For A Queen 2/17/2010
135. ***dying Of Time*** 12/29/2009
136. ***the Dream Watchers*** 2/5/2010
137. ***on Becoming Blind*** 1/6/2010
138. A Poem About Nothing 1/30/2010

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

***on Becoming Blind***

Life is now as confusing
as an Irish mermaid.
The dye from these thick, black socks
colours my toes in violet.
If you are clever you can feel
the way around your blindness,
where memories conjure images of
colour, and the snow
covers your path in giant's sperm.

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