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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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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...........

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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.............

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Which Fire Is Eternal

I loved you once long ago
Your long golden braids catching the snow
We held hands together as one
Our bond bright as the summer sun

Our time together was short it was the first day of May
We believed in the old ways' and they took you away
Many years have passed and I am old and grey
I hear your voice when the trees' softly sway

In another life you stood up for what you believed
I will meet you again someday past the ninth wave over the sea
Our hands joined together again as one we shall be
For a rose in a cornfield is always' a weed

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Legion of Doom

 Infernal regions
 we are legions of hatred
 lucifer my lord

 Hell, Haiku contest. Sponsor Robert James Liguori
 Written 3/27/23.

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Feliz Navidad

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

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Seijaku

I have my window down in my car as I pull to a stop at the light.
Music blaring, inhaling exhaust fumes, horns honking, sirens wailing,
in a chaotic moment my eyes catch something everyone else has missed.
A pair of birds in a nearby tree tending to their nest of young ones,
they seem unaware of the confusion around them, focused only of their task.

Stopping here, and there, and everywhere during my busy blurring day, what do I see? I see the little things, the ones you normally pay no mind too.
A butterfly, floating on a whirlwind and landing on wildflowers growing through concrete cracks during rush hour.
A hummingbird, going from home to urban home looking for a nectar feeder, oddly looking at satellite dishes as possible sources.
A leafcutter bee, chewing what it needs for nesting material from an overgrown leafy plant in a suburban parking lot.

One day melts into another, hardly noticing the difference. The clouds, the sun, the breeze that blows your hair, calling to you. It whispers something to your heart, "step back and breathe the life of everything surrounding you, use your senses".

Sitting in my garden, I see birds tending their nest of young ones, they are always welcome here.
Sitting in my garden, I see a floating butterfly landing on flowers, you are always welcome here.
Sitting in my garden, I see a hummingbird drinking nectar from my bright colored feeder, you are always welcome here.
Sitting in my garden, I see a leafcutter bee filling a tube made of reeds to protect their offspring, you are always welcome here.

A sanctuary begins in one's own mind, you are free to construct and create from all that is, was, and will be.

Welcome......

Details | Dave Bowers Poem

The Most Beautiful Lady That Ever Was

People anticipated, and waited for the day they could gaze upon my beauty, and that they did. The men adored me, the women admired me, and the children were in awe of me.
Everyone loved me! I was an Irish lass from Belfast that would depart Southhampton, England and journey to America. I felt like royalty from all the applause and cheers the public showered me with, along with everyone looking at my gorgeous figure. What woman wouldn't enjoy that!
Rich or poor, people understood they were in the presence of a lady the likes of which they had never before seen. I would make my way to New York for the first time, and these people from all walks of life wanted to accompany me there.
I felt very special about this. It was April 11th, 1912 and we set sail out of port. My guests waved goodbye to friends and loved ones many of whom desperately wanted to come but were unable. I could hear them yelling, "wait for us my lady" but I could not. They seemed heartbroken as we faded from their sight, but I had a schedule to uphold for my guests aboard.
I sailed across the water like a swan on a still lake, so majestic in my form. For almost five days, guests and attendants enjoyed all the luxuries I had to offer. They spoke frequently of me not knowing I was quietly listening. I was flattered and honored by their compliments, so much so, we were ahead of schedule.
In trying to please everyone, I had grown tired. It was clear and bitter cold in the wee hours of April 15th, when I closed my eyes for but a moment, a moment now etched in time. I felt a shock of cold and a tearing at my side, then a peaceful calm. I realized all was not well, like a hole in my best silk dress, it would not be repairable. What was I to do? I had to keep my composer as my men tried to assess the damage. It was not good by the sound of their voices, but I begged them not to worry the guests if need be.
I could hear people asking, "is everything alright" and the reply of "yes madame, just put your life vest on as precaution".
It was growing colder as the water filled my being. Looking at the stars so bright, as if wanting them to help me but so far away. I know knew my guests had to disembark to the lifeboats, but many were still assured that I would protect them. "Please get to the boats" I cried! Most did not heed my warning. Many of first class, were smoking and drinking Brandy. I could hear them saying "don't worry, God himself could not sink this ship".
My bow was submerged as more people filled my upper deck, steerage was now doomed for I could not help. The lifts to the top levels were abandoned now. I watch as flares illuminate the black sky, in hopes someone will see our distress, or hear calls of CQD.
My engines have now stopped, the boilers explode ferociously, steam filling the air. People were jumping in the frigid Atlantic as I yelled "you're not filling the boats to capacity"! My screams went unabated as I started to tilt upwards. It was dark on board, the lights of my eyes closed. The band played "Nearer my God to thee", noble gentlemen they were, trying to ease a lady's fear.
All I could do was say a prayer for those who remained, "God have mercy on their souls".
Trying to embrace them lovingly, my passengers, we descended into the abyss. As I sank my heart broke in two scattering the depths with my sadness. "Please forgive me of this tragedy". I tried to save them on that fateful night over a century ago. We are all one now, a memory. Never forget me, the most beautiful lady that ever was.......

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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...

Best Poems Written by Dave Bowers

To Believe In the Light

Living In Forever

These Old Boots

Bygone Days

Which Fire Is Eternal

Legion of Doom

Feliz Navidad

Seijaku

The Most Beautiful Lady That Ever Was

Playing Cards