Sandra Fowler

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

Sandra Fowler Poems

1. Filigree 11/3/2005
2. Diminishing 1/26/2006
3. I Look Through Broken Windows 5/20/2006
4. The Great Intangible 6/17/2006
5. Silence Is Broken 4/14/2006
6. I Hold You In The Lyric Of My Thoughts 4/16/2006
7. To Be Continued.... 12/8/2005
8. Summer With No Words 12/7/2005
9. Killing Frost 5/20/2006
10. I Think Light Breaks 11/17/2005
11. Compelling Light 4/2/2007
12. As I Count Your Days 3/30/2006
13. Paisley Patterns 3/23/2006
14. Redemption 12/6/2005
15. Evening Flight 5/9/2006
16. Appalachian Gray 4/2/2007
17. Spare Sound 9/1/2007
18. Primeval Of All Flame 2/23/2006
19. Color Cannot Survive 3/23/2006
20. White Tune 10/14/2007
21. The Winning Of The Dusk 5/7/2007
22. An Enclave 3/12/2007
23. Simplicity 12/21/2005
24. Queen Of The Meadow 7/20/2007
25. The Sky Is Falling 5/9/2006
26. Old Pictures 1/30/2007
27. How Like A Candle 4/10/2006
28. Weightless As Shavings 12/27/2005
29. Dissonance 7/19/2008
30. The Journey Is A Picture 11/12/2005
31. Pure Flight 10/2/2006
32. Warmth Is A Burden 4/28/2006
33. Night Vision 9/23/2007
34. Shadow Road 8/9/2007
35. Sun's Last Grace 11/24/2005
36. The World Is Winter 12/8/2005
37. An Iron Gray Day 4/28/2006
38. What Is Infinitesimal? 9/23/2007
39. You Played The Rain 3/20/2008
40. I Count The Tiny Glitters 11/2/2007
Best Poem of Sandra Fowler

(1) Before The Music Ends

Words paint a fragile picture of the dusk.
I think them to a poet far away.
The light shines dim upon my windowpane.
A few tears fall like blue rain in the mind.

Our time has been short listed by sunset,
No matter that the weather has its way,
The stresses live within their measurement,
And distance is a gift we give ourselves.

This moment is designed to be as spare
And elegant as winter's old, gnarled trees.
I trust you to translate my whispers, Friend
And send them back before the music ends.

Read the full of (1) Before The Music Ends

Cloud Moods

Black house roofs are a mirror to the smoke.
The cloud mood makes a backdropp for good-bye.
You lift me parallel to chimney stacks
And make me dizzy with your old world kiss.

The soot is falling like night colored snow
I feel its weight like stove lids on my eyes.
I know I will make poetry again,
But who will chafe my heart when you are gone?

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