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New year, new skin ♥
Poetry is a form of art – inexplicable in its ability to communicate, resonate and provoke. I said that back in 2014, when I founded Paperfields Press, and it’s a sentiment I still agree with. Words, like artwork, can cause a deep stirring in my heart, mind, and soul. Not all, but some, and not often, but sometimes. Similarly, a poetry book is a form of art, and it’s important (but not always easy on an indie budget) to match the cover with the content. When I think back to my first book and the cover I envisioned, my budget to commission a cover and my skills to design a cover…
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Endless Walk
Her thoughts travelled down her heels, converged with the wire, Offered sibilations, beyond translation. Her intentions remained as enigmatic as her destination but still I followed… #poetry #art
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The Passage of a little salmon (2015 Archive)
This is one of many posts that was lost when I migrated my site in 2016. This post was originally published on 5 August 2015. Like the salmon, I am fuelled by an instinctive mission that, in reality, seems impossible to achieve, but ever faithful about my safe passage upstream. ~ Bianca Bowers I cannot aptly describe the heady mix of emotions that blossom when an author receives her first shipment of freshly penned books. It is the crossover moment from intangible to tangible; the architect standing at the feet of a 3-dimensional building having pored over 2-dimensional drawings for months or even years. It is an achievement that induces…
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Hummingbird Heart (Poetry Reading)
Hello friends, I will doing a Poetry Reading every Friday from one of my four books. You can subscribe to my YouTube channel to see this, past and future readings. SUBSCRIBE TO BIANCA’S YOUTUBE CHANNEL
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Love Is A Song She Sang From A Cage
Dear Readers, A revised version of my poetry book, Love Is A Song She Sang From A Cage, is now available as an Ebook on all platforms. If anyone is interested in reviewing this book, please contact me for a free review copy at: contact [at] biancabowers [dot] [com] Thanks for supporting my work, and please enjoy the samples below… CLICK HERE TO BUY FROM AMAZON DISTANCE The distance grows impossibly I cannot communicate in monosyllables anymore I would not love the ocean if she were shallow and I cannot love you like this so I will stop like a hurricane before its death shut this silliness like…
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My poem to be featured in a short film
a poet writes, never knowing if the seeds of her words will blossom into flowers In 2013, I wrote a poem called, Tree of Life, inspired by the Gustav Klimt painting of the same name. In 2014, the poem was published in my first poetry collection, Death and Life. And then the first bud appeared in Spring In 2016, I was approached by a NY Filmmaker who sought permission to use my poem, Tree of Life, in the trailer for a short film called The Avant Gardener. I said yes, of course! I have recently seen the trailer and it is jaw-droopingly beautiful, I gotta tell you. Anyways, the trailer…
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I had a dream that women rose from the sea
Art: Christian Schloe Poem: Bianca Bowers … … … I had a dream That women rose from the sea like Winged Neptunes And the men on the beach cast their eyes to the watercolour sky to behold the floating giants --••-- And for the first time in centuries Men saw women as something other than just shells; Buried beneath sand, Delicate enough to be crushed, Pretty little ornaments to place in mason jars, A whimsical possession to press against their ears. --••-- And for the first time since Sappho Women saw themselves as something other than beautiful creatures To objectify and dismiss ........ They were tulips of the sea …
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Endurance
An ache requires endurance. Stamina. A mind-marathon that may or may not result in implosion. My internal landscape ached for a decade before my body finally tried to self-destruct. But the darkness wasn’t dark enough for me, and the light was too bright. Still, before they returned my restless spirit back to its aching body, they did so with the promise that relief too required endurance, the benefit of which was wings.
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Belonging
I have wrestled with the concept of belonging for many years. Since leaving my South African home at age 23, I have been singled out as not belonging. In NZ, in the UK, and now Australia. And I guess it bothered me enough to write about it endlessly and withdraw into myself on enough occasions. Then, a few years ago, I met up with a journalist who was writing about her own explorations into belonging. We drank our herbal teas and shared experiences instead of chocolate cake, and it was enjoyable enough to say we’d stay in touch. But somewhere between saying goodbye and driving home, I had an unexpected…
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Whale Procession
WHALE PROCESSION I drowned in squid ink landed on the ocean floor Clouds of sand engulfed me like the jaws of a great white An army of jellyfish passed overhead- a beautiful funeral procession ~~••~~ Once death settled my essence hovered-a reluctant apparition I felt the starfish twitch beneath me Spied sea dragons rocking to and fro in the current ~~••~~ A school of parrot fish swam past and a sea urchin opened its door ~~••~~ Then, Silence as long as a pier. ~~••~~ That hovering essence transmuted Effervescent A tiny whirlpool above my chest primed for the ocean to siphon ~~••~~ And then, the sound of whales calling…
