Sandra Fowler

(February,4,1937 / W. Columbia, WV, USA)

Biography of Sandra Fowler

Sandra Fowler born in West Columbia, WV February 4,1937. Has been writing poetry for almost fifty years.Associate Editor, Ocarina from about 1978 to 1989. Had a poem nominated for The Pushcart Prize,1998. Wazir Agha dedicated his Selected Poems to her in 1998. Interviewed by skylark Purdue university Calumet,2000. Honorary Doctorate, World Academy Of arts and Culture,2002. Wall Of Tolerance Honoree,2002.Biography listed in Who's Who Of American Women.Marquis and The Dictionary Of International Biography.England. Chosen by The International Poetry
Translation and Research Centre and the Journal, 'World Poets Quarterly, (Multilingual) , published in China, as
one of the best international poets of 2005.
Chosen by the International Poetry Translation And Research Centre as one of the best Critics of 2007.
Some of her reviews of the work of Indian poet,
Rajaram Ramachandran can be seen at Divine
A CD entitled, 'Before The Music Ends' which featured thirteen of her poems was done by Global Definitions
in 2008. Reader, Ihab Badran. Production, Nancy Badran.
An essay, 'Sandra Fowler: An Exposition', Gina Roussos
for her English Honors Class,2008. Ms. Fowler's poetry
has been translated into seven languages and has, courtesy of, 'The World Poets Quarterly', appeared in 190 countries.Editor's Choice 1-Award, 'The Enchanting
Verses',2009. Member U.S. Executive Committee, United
Minds For Poetry Society,2009-. Inducted into the
Lifetime Achievement Hall Of Fame, UMFPS,2009.
Biographical data included in, 'Who's Who In The
World', Marquis,2009.

Sandra Fowler's Works:

In The Shape Of Sun, Shalom Publications, Israel,1972-73, with a second printing also in Israel in 1975.The Colors Cry In Rain, Apollo Books U.S.A,1983, and Ever
Sunset, Skylark Publications, India,1992. Updates

Something So Fine

You must not look at me in failing light.
The measure of the moment is too bright.
The cold, gold sunset hurts my eyes tonight.

I will not listen to those panes of gray.
Touch was so articulate that day
The smoke of ironweed warmed resolve away.

Your West Virginia face was poetry.

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