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Best Poems Written by Dave Bowers

Below are the all-time best Dave Bowers poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Dave Bowers Poem

Bygone days


The warmth of the sun shines on my face and in doing so I glow with radiance, my long hair looks like strands of gold in a dull world, society doesn't accept me but yet I feel free as I watch the ascent of light in the east
To be different is not normal, but yet I am more normal than most
Going by in a flash, seasons change with the years but I am the same, happy with who I am and what I got so to speak
I don't need modern technology to keep me happy because happiness is a mindset not materialistic
Looking towards the west, I see clouds in the noonday sky and the smell of moisture on the horizon
Walking towards the dying fire, a late summer breeze blows my locks in waves that cascade into the sunset
Never looking over my shoulder, my denim jacket has faded from time as decades pass
The sun sets behind an odd tree with no leaves like the modern world, but I look past it all
A new day will dawn like it did all those years ago when I was young, and then comes the rain.............

Copyright © dave bowers | Year Posted 2021



Details | Dave Bowers Poem

Living in forever

You bore me, you raised me, now you're in eternity
A child growing up you gave me all necessity
During my troubles you tried to save me
Just like a mother would do for her baby

I see you everywhere in life, you shine so bright
You guide my steps, and hopefully I'll get it right
I cannot see you but you're in my sight
Your presence is felt both day and night

Someday, you will take my hand to a very special land
A place with no time, no hourglass full of sand
Life has troubles, but with you in my heart I can withstand
In life and death my mother, with you it has been grand

Copyright © dave bowers | Year Posted 2022

Details | Dave Bowers Poem

These old boots

These old boots, they've sure been around. They don't know where their goin' but they sure know where they've been. Drinkin' Corona and dancing with a Mexican Senorita in Jaurez, the smell of perfume and Tequila fill the air. Gracias for the good time, but these old boots got to go. Hitched a ride on an old cattle truck to El Paso, my Stetson blocking the sun and hiding my bloodshot eyes. Throwing cow chips at an old wooden fence, I count the $100 dollars I just made at the slaughter house, the foreman said "you work like that you'll make good money boy". "Thanks, but these old boots got to go" I said. "That $100 dollars sure went fast", I told the deputy as he unlocked the gate at the jail sitting in downtown Amarillo smoking a Marlboro with my thumb in the air, thinkin', these old boots got to go. Tired and weary, I got a motel room for $50 bucks I made on a sway-back horse in a low-class rodeo outside Albuquerque but don't remember much about last night other than the empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the table. Dippin' in a can of Kodiak, I'm thinking to myself, these old boots got to go. That Budweiser sure did taste good after bailing hay in the snow in Durango, as night fell pickin' my guitar as the cowgirls on the dancefloor cut a rug. I thought to myself, the good times don't last forever so these old boots got to go. I've been a lot of things' and nonthin at the same time, money in my pocket and a liquor bottle, I roll on down the road like a tumbleweed blowing in the wind. Back in big sky country, the prairie grass sways in the breeze casting shadows on my tombstone. Hard work and hard drinkin' caught up to me, but I had fun y'all, these old boots got to go...........

Copyright © dave bowers | Year Posted 2021

Details | Dave Bowers Poem

Feliz Navidad


  Feliz Navidad, carolers sing so fare
  Smell of posole, tamales, red chile fill the air
  Christmas eve, luminarias are all a glow
  Spirit and magic of Christmas in New Mexico

Copyright © dave bowers | Year Posted 2021

Details | Dave Bowers Poem

The most wonderful time of year

 Christmastime is here again, but this year there's an inflation hike 
 Santa can't afford to feed his reindeer or pay his elves, now they're all on strike

Copyright © dave bowers | Year Posted 2021



Details | Dave Bowers Poem

Watermelon in winter

I was lucky enough to always' live in a house facing more less to the east
I have gazed upon them since I was a child, the same as others for hundreds of years
They are a part of the spirit of this land, majestic beauty in the high desert
The golden rays of the sun break its crest every morning
The silver moon rises high over its silhouette every night
I have looked upon them from oldtown the same way the Spaniards did
From the pueblo named after them where the buffalo eat the tall grass in the afternoon breeze
I have stood on its peak to view the Rio Grande River far below
I have picked Pinon nuts from the trees under the Turquoise blue sky 
The spring winds obscure them with blowing dust sometimes, but I know they will always' be there
I have walked its trails in the summertime, the smell of rain as the monsoon clouds form in the sky
I have driven through Tijeras canyon as red and yellow autumn leaves begin to fall
A vast sea created them eons ago, these mountains of pink granite, known as the Sandias
In the midst of a December sunset, the glittering, radiant light of the Zia shines upon them
A blanket of snow covers its crest in the evening twilight, and in it, I see the crystal colors of its name shimmer
The beautiful Sandias, watermelon in winter


Copyright © dave bowers | Year Posted 2021

Details | Dave Bowers Poem

Shadows in the fields

  Leaves dance in autumn
  scarecrows blowing in the wind
  golden sun sinks low

Copyright © dave bowers | Year Posted 2021

Details | Dave Bowers Poem

The Sunflower

Sometimes life isn't very bright, but the sun knows when the time is right
In springtime something grows in the quiet of the night
Nurtured below ground, soon it will be in your sight
The warmth of the year provides it to shine bright
It is for all living things to watch and enjoy
The bees and butterflies help us to understand the story
Their work is of great importance to show not all is melancholy
It is a story of life and nature, and a beautiful endless journey
The sunflower sways in the gentle breeze in a brilliant dance
It has grown from a seed, and a little luck and chance
The days are long, but soon autumn will advance
Winter has come, the sunflower lies dormant, but I see it return in a summers glance

Copyright © dave bowers | Year Posted 2022

Details | Dave Bowers Poem

Red or Green

The most famous chile in the world comes from New Mexico
Red chile or green chile? and during Christmas it's a special time
You see if you can't decide which when asked red or green? Say both!
We eat chile on everything here, to not do so is a crime
Red or green Christmas chile on everything, New Mexico natives are one of a kind!

12/18/2021

Copyright © dave bowers | Year Posted 2021

Details | Dave Bowers Poem

Playing cards


Speaking Spanish wasn't easy for a gringo like me, but I had no choice. I was playin' cards and drinkin' Mezcal at a nowhere bar in El Paso. I didn't have any money in my pockets but I was bluffing to win, I lost. I stood up, pulled my six gun and shot a man dead. The bar emptied out quick and so did I, money in hand. I jumped on that old pinto and rode due south because I knew the border wasn't far. My heart was beatin' as fast as that horse could gallop but I had the money, thank God. I looked out of place in Mexico, my jet-black cowboy hat amongst the sombreros and dark eyes staring at me, so I tipped my hat lower. Down a dusty Juarez Street, I found a cantina so I hitched my horse and went inside feeling weary. A pocket full of money and a Tequila bottle, I was joined by a senorita more beautiful than I could imagine. Her flowing dark hair and dress captivated my eyes as I told her my story dancing to the sound of mariachis in the background. She said the $300 dollars I stole I could turn into $600 with her help. Eager to double my money, we sat down at a table full of men playing cards and drinking Pulque by the glass. I felt confident as we won hand after hand, her hand in mine, a Tequila bottle in the other. I scooped up the winnings and kissed her soft skin feeling pretty lucky when a bullet ripped through my chest. Lying on the dirt floor in my own blood, a bandito took the money from my hand as my senorita, on her knees cried. My home in Albuquerque is far away now. I lay in an unmarked grave in the Sonoran Desert. The money I had won, well someone else is playing cards with it now...

Copyright © dave bowers | Year Posted 2021

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