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Natasha Anne Rose Bowman

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Member Since: Sep, 2007

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A Specimen of Originality
by Natasha Anne Rose Bowman
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Not rated by the Author.
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Recent poems by Natasha Anne Rose Bowman
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           >> View all 50

These walls are papered

With faces and petals

That can only be seen

On the outside.



     I want to strip naked

     And roll in paint.


Originality is an illusion

Created by glossy photographs

And desperate hopefuls

Who could never quite manage to grasp the concept of life.


     (To die?)


To paint is to play God,

If only with a brush

And a limited palette.


I find myself in color

      (And Mary, and Jim, and Sue …)

But nobody actually cares.


                        It’s a vicious, vicious world!

                        Three piece suits and bibliophiles alike

                        Bloom and blossom

                        To the sound of insulting rap music.


Illiterate speakers, transvestite soldiers

Guns, knives, Advil and ping pong.

Creation is condemned

     (And why not? We’re all just posers)

While injustice is allowed.

The city screams of forgery!

     (I live in a small town)

This blacktop is alive!

Live to die, die to live …

Inevitability holds us prisoner.

Structure, routine, hammer, GUN.


Find yourself.

Find yourself on someone else’s canvas.


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Reviewed by Jessica Patterson 4/25/2010
Wow this is amazing. Deep.
Reviewed by Thomas Mutchler 2/3/2009
Some fine wording and imagery here. Good work.

Reviewed by Edwin Hurdle 1/3/2009
This is an excellent poem,I enjoy reading it,take care

Reviewed by Karen Vanderlaan 10/17/2008
incredible--you have such a gift and you write of such raw truths
Reviewed by Rose Rideout 10/16/2008
Wow Natasha, this is a big write, we may not hear from you often but when we do you toss us a doesy. Thank you for sharing honey, we'd like to hear from you more often.

Newfie hugs, Rose
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