Ian Bowen


Communist Wives - Poem by Ian Bowen

Women in long boots
have left their marks
in the virgin snow;
that now covers
the short, sharp stalks
of distant, harvest fields.

Walking...no better trudging,
they chatter of beatings,
drudgery and hardship.

Their beetroot stained lips,
puff clouds of frozen air;
that hangs for a moment
like a diamond clustered mist,

then is gone.

The walk to the forest
has produced bundles
of kindling for fires.

They cradle their employment
like new born babies.
Stand all day,
selling ice-cold sticks…

for the price of a loaf
or Vodka, for their
lazy, alcoholic oaf.

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Comments about Communist Wives by Ian Bowen

  • Analogous To Tower 7: Ameaning (2/5/2010 1:15:00 PM)


    I guess to be devil's advocate, I'd like to see your presentation on Capitalist Wives, LOL. I think this is crazy accurate, at least from my studies, you got skills. It reads like watching a cartoon of industrialized characters marching along. 'They cradle their employment, like new born babies', WOW! Thats amazing imagery. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, February 5, 2010

Poem Edited: Monday, February 8, 2010


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