Details |
Jack Bowman Poem
Red starlit fabric drapes over the model
the artist tries his best
to capture in oil, on canvas,
small lit places on her skin;
light through the trees, outside the window
his sight is marginal;
he goes mostly from memory, instinct
and what he imagines is actually there
he stops for a moment, hard to breathe,
asks her to rest
she is bored
knows he is no master
will sit for him anyway,
he pays,
she has time
after a few minutes, he starts again
re sets her, pulls out a smaller brush
strains his eyes
swears this will be the last one...
until tomorrow.
Copyright © Jack Bowman | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Jack Bowman Poem
The fall comes early to frost covered souls
bound in damp, worn wool blankets
barefoot wanderings
over cold birch branches, sticks,
crack covered ground
thorns, thistles, briars
scratch, pierce the skin
tug at the coverings
lay bare
the naked heart
to face the hollow cold
without purpose
only a ceaseless longing
alone.
Copyright © Jack Bowman | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Jack Bowman Poem
Jesus was from A Mongrel Race
He is not to be trusted, he is mixed;
the purity of his divine grace
muddied by the nasty, lazy, dark,
humans
he may have been a child of love
but where is love in those hateful, fearful,
Earth dwelling,
parasites
God should have stayed with his own kind
should have mated with a divine female
not polluted his blood with the virus
of ignorance and these slovenly savages
now is the beginning of the curse:
more Nehalem, more Herculean half - Gods
and misfit half-breeds
what made him think that these lowly creatures
are worth anything?
Copyright © Jack Bowman | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Jack Bowman Poem
Salmon colored skin, extra sensitive,
old '03 40 plus sunscreen sits atop dresser, back home
drunken ex-surfers smell up Hennesey’s and Sharkey’s
well tanned, dirty blond, wasted teeth, flip
high school dropouts here from the city, try to unleash their angst,
Kary-okie night; have to sing louder than Sportscenter on 10 screens
the floor sticks with the sap of [spilled]hard drinks and lost mores’
tables are leaned on, light dims, hard to hear,
a man walks out, down the pier, to the end
drinks in the blackness
waves lap at the legs of the walk,
the moon laughs
then calls the prophetic,
first week of summer.
Copyright © Jack Bowman | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Jack Bowman Poem
The shadow of doubt returns, sits on his back
a heavy gargoyle with long talons
his heart; worn out, enlarged
beats weakly,
head, eyes downcast
a response to others’ anxieties, demands, frustration
he tries to rise, move,
then he stumbles to the side
hears the wings of the great beast flap wildly, a few seconds,
then rancid breath which goes in through his nostrils
coats his tongue, comes out his own mouth
to ward off anyone who might want to aide him
Is it as simple as forgetting a pill?
Or has the weighted curtain fallen
down over beleaguered eyes?
He moves through the hall
pain where the claws dig in,
sun filtered light at the end,
just a few more steps.
Copyright © Jack Bowman | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Jack Bowman Poem
Common people
walk and eat, drive, sleep
unaware of the spirits around them
or the games played by fate
they grow, reproduce
sit in Church
wonder how to pray
but not for long
life instructions:
listen, obey, stay to yourself
if you congregate, police will disperse
don’t be seen as a problem
don’t be a nuisance
sit, do your work, and for God’s sake
keep your mouth shut.
Copyright © Jack Bowman | Year Posted 2010
|
Details |
Jack Bowman Poem
New music to soothe the savage inside
just incites a riot of rampaging neurons
painful emotional waves coalesce into
a tsunami,
a solid wall of feelings
ready to wipe out
several small villages
it is a nightmare inside him,
unknown by even the closest companion,
he treads twisted, chaos waters;
the smell, jagged pieces, each life lost,
another body with his face,
another decision, already made
a choice
that has not ended well
he plays again
this time
a new harder, more mature
melody.
Copyright © Jack Bowman | Year Posted 2014
|
Details |
Jack Bowman Poem
Titrate down
till all the help is out of your system
the thoughts come fast
the pointless days
silent nights
the evil, sharp edges of sanity
roll with it, as blades of suicidal ideation
fill your waking hours
wait, wait, wait
the new one will come soon
new medicine that will take the thoughts away,
that will raise you from near dead daydreams
and let you breathe slow and even,
rest
until then, just turn, walk away
and shhh
keep it to yourself
no one wants to think
you have any problems
like that.
Copyright © Jack Bowman | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Jack Bowman Poem
Caught up in the frenzy
paranoid judgments disguised as reason
woe and viruses
push the man into the dark
he wallows in fear
coughs and sputters
looks up,
knows not to beg the universe
for his imprisonment this time
his insides ache with the venom
bitten into him
soul changes from gas to liquid to solid
and back
unsure of its own density
the man fights his own capitulation
“better to die on his feet, than beg on his knees”
he rises up
leans on his shadow
begins the long walk.
Copyright © Jack Bowman | Year Posted 2011
|
Details |
Jack Bowman Poem
One and it’s over:
sold down the river with you;
the feelings of love passion, heaven,
flow between us
an unending energy
heads swim, arms enfold, eyes close
there is just the warmth,
the heat
of you and I, our bliss
and what we share
only with each other
and
ours.
Copyright © Jack Bowman | Year Posted 2013
|