CREATION

Cast o’er with grey, the blue sky hides and takes with it the sun

A lightning flash and thunderclap brings raindrops on the run

The crystal jewels that hail from high bequeathed by nature’s hand

Refresh the earth and bring forth life, replenishing the land.

Then as the sun recalls its strength and banishes the cloud

It calls upon the rainbow band’s mute witness to the crowd

For though we think we’re masters here, have but to beck and call

If it weren’t for our Creator, we’d not be here at all.

© dave bowen

24/5/89

Dongara WA

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The Stockman’s Last Ride

 Please someone just hand me my stockwhip

Bear me up to the saddle once more

Though I now hardly move, my last ride will prove

I’m a stockman right through to the core

My cobbers, you’ve known me for cent’ries

You young bucks for maybe a year

But the bond with my horse was legend, of course

And his passing brought more than a tear

So boil up that blackened old billy

To toast me with tea, not with tears

Then someone please croon my favourite tune

Let’s look back on those wonderful years

’Cause now it’s the turn of the master

To ride that last trail into night

While your campfire burns, when this horse returns

You’ll know I arrived there all right.

© dave bowen

23/2/05

Mandurah

WA

Encouragement Award

Feast of Poetry Competition

Cooma, NSW

2005

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The Rhyming Romeo

 The women came from everywhere, from every country town

They’d travel in from homesteads to lay their blankets down

To sit and listen to him speak, to hear the things he wrote

And each would feel a teary eye, a breath caught in their throat

For it’s true, he was their lover, at least in all their dreams

He walked with each one hand in hand beside the woodland streams

And whispered in their shell-like ears such words of sweet romance

As he guided them around the floor embraced in courtly dance

The rhyming romeo would raise an eyebrow now and then

Or tip a wink to right or left, for pause, and start again

Knowing well that every word, that each well-chosen phrase

Brought back a memory to the girls of treasured halcyon days

Reminded them of stolen looks, or more daringly a kiss

Oh yes, his words relit their fires, and fanned the flames of bliss

What would they give to have this man all to their very selves?

To lead them into forest glades where pixies and sweet elves

Prepared for them a leafy dell, a floral-laced boudoir

Fit only for a princess in a sylvan palace.  Far

From Cinderella’s chores, the drudge, the daily grind

The Poet Prince would take them, if only in their mind

His words would captivate each heart and make of it his own

While pulses raced and girls, red-faced, emitted with a moan

Their murmured sighs of lust and love, their happiness in capture

Oh would this moment never end, this all-pervading rapture

But all good things must end, they say, and all too soon the poet

Closed his eyes and took a bow, to finish off the show.  It

Was the sweetest moment, for he held each lady there

And everyone, for just a second, whispered up a prayer

Of thanks, for giving of his time to share his mind and soul

His magic words that gave them joy, and made them all feel whole

A blessing on this Romeo, with his cunning lingual skills

For giving tongue to thoughts, that brought a paradise of thrills

As each one left at end of day, fulfilled in that fine hour

They took with them the echo of his words, with all the power

To keep them oh so happy and their hearts and minds aglow

And all with treasured memories of the rhyming romeo.  

Winner - Cooma Feast of Poetry - Bush Verse - 2006

(c) dave bowen

9/5/06

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Planet Suite

#1

 Gustav hold still; your mind is spinning round

Take your time and smell the roses

Keep your feet firm on the ground

But not this lad, he heard a different drum

Heaven’s stars were in his orbit

Not revolving round his mum

Can you hear the drums Fernando?

Is the trumpet volunt’ry?

Will the rhythm in your young mind

Help to set the music free?

What symphony!  Such pleasure to be found

Making time to hear the music

Simply soaring with the sound

For the universe itself is at our very feet

As we rule with awesome majesty

In tune with Gustav’s Planet Suite.

***

Planet Suite

#2

Life never seems to go to plan; it has us all in thrall

When we think we have it mastered, we’re just heading for a fall

From the moment we start scheming, and mapping out our life

We learn that nothing in this world is without a share of strife.

Oh, what hardships some men suffer in their never-ending grind

To scrape a living from the earth, or live on what they find

From richer people’s cast-offs, it can hardly be a life

For the ever-hungry children and the poor, downtrodden wife.

While some, they get it easy and their sailing’s mostly smooth

In their ocean-going cruisers, they’re always on the move

Funded by their self-made empires controlled by click of mouse

And managed from the comfort of a million-dollar house.

Yet what these have in common from the cradle to the grave

Is the one perennial problem that their lives they cannot save

Neither with, nor without money; not sat in power’s seat

Nor even with their bellies full of all the planet’s wheat.

***************************************************

Planet Suite

#3

I close my eyes in wonder at the awe-inspiring sound

Of Holst’s heavenly sweet music as it goes round and round
Playing on my old, but treasured gramophone

It’s the only thing I own

That keeps me calm.

Besides, of course, my Bible in its weathered leather case

And the photo of my lost love with her ever-smiling face.

It’s relaxing as the music soothes away the past  

And although it doesn’t last

It’s such sweet balm.

As I survey our earthly home from the music’s universe

I give thanks to our Creator, for we have no need of purse

He so freely gives, and promises much more

It’s right there in the score

In the rhythm, in the beat.

In the universal harmony to match His written word

The truth of all His prophesies that I have read and heard

This powers my belief, though some may think it odd

My faith’s in our great God

That He did... plan it sweet.

WINNER

Coastal Writers Comp

Suite of three poems

2007

For other db poems see under ’poetry’ in the book categories