I
Dear Alex Shade,
Why are you so down?
The day is new,
So smile. Do not frown.
Dear Alex Shade,
Where have you got to?
Your bed is pale,
Your orders are due.
Dear Alex Shade,
Have you seen the hail?
Your coat is here
On the clothing nail.
Dear Alex Shade,
What have you to fear?
I have moved home.
I might lose a tear.
II
Dear Jack Bowman,
I yearn through one way glass.
If luck tips you might know you are being watched.
I gave you my heart to cradle,
You flick your hand, scoff at my nose
And spit. Spit. Spit. Spit. Spit.
Oh spit once more and risk running out.
Save some for the next fly, I suggest.
It might be bigger.
I have left home to live in a house.
I am clean. Tell me you ache.
Please.
-AS
I still remember Mr. Bowman
who taught me in one of his classes
I don’t remember anything else
but remember the kindness he showed me
Do you have someone like that
in your past?
Someone that stood out to you after
all these years?
The face of an angel, right?
That is what God to you
Come in the purest form
straighten you when you need straightened
taught you what needs to be taught
something that you would never forget
Be like God to someone
That maybe the call you may answer to
Without knowing
The world is full of people like that
Angels
Who goes about doing things, living out
Their lives
But wouldn’t they know it
in some particular moment
they have touched someone
You who do good
Don’t be weary of doing good
Isn’t that what the Bible said?
Galatians 6:9
What other things that people do
that touched you?
Only you know it
But in all those instances
You will find out that all
have the imprints of God
We don’t remember just anything
Just the ones that affect us
Whether in a good or bad way
Be in the good, will ya?
I truly don’t want to remember you in that way
You know what I mean?
'The Boston Massacre' killed British soldiers, three
and destroyed quite a bit of tea
O, those heartless American revolutionaries!
Hamas just killed 700 Israelis, mostly civilians
on a Jewish Holy Day
Captured over 100 hostages too
dozens of babies and grandmothers, by the way
Now American Congressional radicals in 2023
Omar, Bowman, Bush, Tlieb, AOC
rally in support of Hamas in NYC
O, such brave fighters ~
destroyers of lives, freedom and liberty
Representative Jamaal Bowman sets off a fire alarm in the House Chamber
rips down the 'Emergency' signs
heads for the hills
Doesn't apologize 'til the police nab him ... then AOC whines
'Jamaal was confused'
A clearcut case of 'white privilege' turned on its head
Even KINDERGARTENERS know not to pull an alarm that's red!
Perhaps Jamaal never attended elementary school
While AOC thinks she can play us all for fools
Bard nocks Black Arrow, barebow thrills and kills ~ a ripple in Smaug’s armor
"Thus Spoke Zarathustra"
proclaims the Dawn of Man &
The Monolith
From the ancient past
to the (retro)futuristic present
as the flying bone
becomes a satellite in orbit
Blue Danube waltz
serenades space:
the Pan Am space plane
gracefully docks with
the space station
Ligeti’s haunting polyphony
envelopes space:
Floyd visits
The Monolith on the
immaculately stark moon
Beautifully tragic
Khachaturian ballet suite
announces the Discovery’s
lonely mission to Jupiter
Bowman methodically unplugs
the homicidal HAL
as the psychopathic e-brain
sadly sings “Daisy, daisy…”
He enters the wormhole
in the Monolith orbiting Jupiter
travels through infinity
at FTL velocity
transfixed by the epic
irreal journey
And then finds himself in a
luxury hotel room
somewhere in the universe:
dying on a bed
he sees the Monolith
and is transformed
into a Star-Child
who floats toward Earth
What will the Star-Child
do?
Crossing the Swamp
The enemy within, if unchallenged,
Will destroy the nation to achieve power.
Singing and composing to deceive the innocent,
Spinning narratives to suit their agenda.
For them, the country is a tool to use
To satisfy their selfish interests.
They hate Jesus, Christians, and Jews
And curse the United States of America.
Boldly, the bowman poles away the ‘gators,
While the helmsman rudders straight and true.
Brave Trump, “Commander in Chief,” leads the troops,
Crossing the swamp to root out traitors.
By beacon’s light in murky waters’ blight,
Proudly displayed, “Old Glory” waves
As a nation prays for freedom from evil’s grip
And for the killing of unborn babies to stop.
I set out, and loitering is forbidden,
And I, who stood intent upon beholding the roots
tried it; I swear it!
but so far I understood,
that hardly could the eye attain it.
The cord of a bow;
never shot an arrow from itself,
for that, you need a bowman
... But also, permission to loiter.
Chorus:
When he built a dream house and
"The dream" became a nightmare.
Then, he spoke to us about his frustration,
how his aims had not been achieved.
He entrusted himself to us.
Man. Do not dream, instead Act!
The Man:
Then I myself set out,
and loitering is also forbidden,
And I, who stood intent upon beholding the roots of Fortune!
I tried it; I swear it!
I tried with all my strength!
but...I failed again
but... So far; I definitely understood.
that what I intended
that. hardly could the eye attain it.
The Chorus:
Cord never shot an arrow from itself,
for that you need a bowman
but also, permission to wander.
The Man:
And I, in my indigence unveiled The Quiz.
Humbly and forever. I I should admit that
neither I have archer nor permission to wander.
Robin Hood of proud Nottingham fame,
Treated affluent folk as fair game.
He’d grab hold of their cash
And then off he would dash,
But to give to the poor was his aim.
Bowman Robin, with cupid-like art
Sent a quiver through Marian’s heart.
Through the woods they would ride,
Merry men at their side;
How she wished, just for once they’d depart!
30.01.19
Limerick 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
The famed archer perches on the minaret
While the waxing moon disappears
He studies the dancing silhouettes
Waiting on the reclusive premier
The scant light of a torch coyly dances
And soon the moribund ruler emerges
The bowman knows where his allegiance is
Soon the realm will be singing dirges
The arrow hits the heart and it is rent apart
And so departs the tyrannical tetrarch
Haiku 16
native warriors
the Bowman and the Spearman
by Lake Michigan
I remember a young man of long ago,
I as fond of him as he the bow.
We thrived together, discovering astride,
grew into our own side by side.
I came for the archery, and stayed
for the friends - oh, the parts we played.
We shot, spoke, studied and strummed;
on my heart's strings the experience thrummed.
This companion's name intrigued sans surcease,
'til he told how Eirenikos means peace.
Greek it was, and Greek it was to me,
for anger ever flows within me with glee.
In spite of that, we teamed well, made a fine pair,
learned how to wear blade, bow and banter proud and fair.
Every event we could make it to cemented thus more;
there, I felt unfettered - normally, always at war.
Now here I sit, trying to keep his lessons in mind,
while to Dante's lands, for a spell, myself I've signed.
Amidst this strife, I long for those halcyon days,
to return to Eirenikos's eponymously equable ways.
Two sides of the same coin, were this bowman and I,
his name the chronic reminder - a better man is ever nigh.
In his world, myself I chose to engross;
striving to speak with the voice of Eirenikos.
There was a young man named John Bowman
Who was renowned as a bit of a showman
He practiced Yoga
Dressed in a toga
Convinced that he was a real Roman
The soundless voice, that is kept deep inside,
that doesn’t dare speak.
The sound that is hushed, and doesn’t seem to even peak.
The emotions that are held in a bottomless cavern, hidden by pity
and despair. The smiles that kept glinting even though,
the heart has been shattered and beaten down.
The memories inside the mind that hinder
and move you in ways you are unaware of.
Hoping to forget what ifs and why not’s,
Questions that will never be answered;
or even understood.
Throbbing that is without words, and leaves you comatose.
Visions of moments that are forever gone.
Seconds that turn into hours and hours that wane into weeks.
Words that will never be spoken, regrets and refusing.
Mind-numbing movements, that turn into slow aches that flow through the heart and drip inside the soul.
Hard to understand, and accept.,
The hand on the clock of life, moving at a speed that is inescapable.
Love that is plastered into every inch of your life. Shallow breathes, and lack of luster. Will the sun shine on that soul once more? Rest is given, and mending will slowly progress over you. Breathe in and leisurely exhale.
Sarah l. Bowman
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