dpbowman

The posings of a poet.

Archive for the tag “Poem”

This is where I…

This is where I leave you, since it is far from where you were found
This is where I found you, though it is not where you are bound
 
This is where I brought you, and where you led me too
This is where I followed you, and by it we both grew

This is where I taught you, more in deed than word
This is where I spoke you, between the voice and what is heard
 
This is where I raised you, from unknowing and from doubt
This is where I believed you, the you that I would tout

This is where I loved you, in my need as in yours
This is where I fulfilled you, and you opened all my doors

This is where I imagine you, reading and breathing each phrase
This is where I leave you…

8

For Micah
 
Poems are a form of prayer
I hope that they can reach you there
I write and write and feel relief
Though the feeling is passing brief
I would join you where you are
I know you’re near but it feels so far
They say a loss leaves a phantom pain
Does the sky hurt at the falling of the rain
I know I hurt at the falling of a tear
God how I wish you were here
If you hear this or over my shoulder read
Know that I’ll ever love you in word and deed
Someday I’ll join you and know you more
Until then that’s what my writing’s for
A prayer for you to know me by
A loving hello to replace a tearful goodbye
A release of what has passed this year
A call to remind you that you are dear
A piece of me I give to you
All to say that I love you

The Thing Is

The distance between memory prophecy and deja vu
Is the same as the length of a promised tomorrow
The similarity closeness here between me and you
Is the same as the good intents with which we borrow
 
The height of our flightful trajected arc
Is the same as the spinning of the suspended sun
The depths of our passion in the dark
Is the same as the link between joy and fun
 
The purity of purpose in our possession
Is the same as the purported problem in a hurricane
The inadequacy of words to make this confession
Is the same as language barrier between parts of my brain
 
The love I bear for the heart you hold
Is the same as that first created to sing
The love I feel from that heart that continues to unfold
Is the same hope to which the drowning cling

Bit of a Tic

If you’ll excuse my being pedantic
You may find this a little bit mantic
Or perhaps just another antic
As my words seem a jumble quite frantic
 
It’s just that when I get semantic
And in truth a bit sycophantic
I seem to notice something gigantic
Behind the way that you call me romantic

RE:verse

Words fly like insubstantial birds
Through the air like an arrow from the yew
And strike a chord within me I begin to understand
Love floats down from high above
More than letters at their core
Intentions thoughts plans connections beyond conventions
Desire delight defense freedom faith fire
Pleasure passion pursuit time tenderness treasure
Temptation trepidation trial surrender surreal sensation
Birds insubstantiate the flight of Words
The yew forms the arrow that it Threw
Understand to begin me within a chord strike an And
Above high from down flees Love
Core their letters and see More
Conventions beyond connect plans thought Intentions
Fire faith with freedom in defense of delighted Desire
Treasure tenderness and time pursuit with passionate Pleasure
Sensation is surreal surrender to trials of trepidation or Temptation

If What If

If heaven had a home and leaven were all alone how far could we rise
If hell had no fury and no one was in a hurry wouldn’t that just be a surprise
and If IF meant possibility becoming reality

What would become of the negative sum of aggression and prejudice
What could we do if between me and you we surrendered to selflessness
and kept judgement at its apogee

If we all claimed love instead of blamed hate what could flow
If we all chose joy and let close the wounds we allowed to grow
and a golden future spiraled like alchemy

Dark ANgels

The standard uncomplicated conversation is a tattooed constellation on the left side of tomorrow
The dareless dreams of day are meditations on the gray that lingers between the patches of fog we borrow
The night holds light as bright as tygers in the mind

The repetitious regurgitation of fact or fiction breaks with concentration in the factories of faith and thought
The settled servile sentence called happiness or repentance is a calculated indecision cheaply bought
The dark covers much but reveals in kind

The dimmed delight of dessicated day is night and brings relief and room to breathe and stretch our wings
The fear felt for few is flight to me and you and fumbling fun in close quarters and other things
The moon smiles upon the mark we leave behind

Hopscotch

Image
If I could jump from my body to yours
What would it be like to walk on your floors
What would it look like to use your eyes
What would it sound like to make your sighs
What would it taste like to eat a peach
How tall is too tall for how far you can reach
When would you wake up, when would you sleep
What kind of secrets would I find you keep
Would a rose called by that name
To you still smell quite the same
What makes you you and makes me me
What if each the other we could be
Would your heart be in the same time
Could you twist words to make them rhyme
Would you love me while I was you
Would there be in me some reason not to
True nakedness of heart and soul
Hasn’t that really been the goal

Dead Lee and the Zombie Touch (an excerpt)

Where once was a man named Lee
Now we find our hero ZOMBIE
And of course we must get
More plot in there yet
So just follow along now with me

 

It’s seems that Lee being dead
Still had some thoughts in his head
A desire to succeed
Was still a good creed
But his belly only thought to be fed

 

So he went in search of fresh brain
But his search ended in vane
His tummy still grumbled
And so Lee just mumbled
“Must be some way to maintain,”

 

“A many bunch brains for munch
So me no must chasing lunch
Me got to go find
Quick way to get mind.”
Then suddenly he had a hunch

 

“If me could just touch stuff and it
Turn to brain,me could eat every bit
And it not run away
And not take all day
But such power, Where will me get?”

 

“Me need a genie, or better
A Greek god who is me debtor
Then he grant me
This ability
Turn hand into better brain getter!”

 

So Lee did a search on the ‘net
How best to get in his debt
A goddess or god
Who he could then prod
To grant that for which he was dead set

 

He read of that Dionysus guy
And decided he would be an ally
For you can hear
If you tune your ear
He has in his name the word “Die”….

 

Would you read more?

But lime iS…

Spring is like fall but backwards
A poem is like a thought but with stacked words
 
A dream is like a wish but with measure
A lover is like rainbow but with treasure
 
Music is like a fountain but of youth
Poetry is like a flower but of truth
 
Art is like laughter but with the eyes
A kiss is like a drug but pure highs
 
Expectation is like a shackle but tighter
A soul is like a feather but lighter
 
These words are like yours but my writing
That sense is like fire but uniting

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