Best Poem of Ian Bowen

Long As A Vet's Glove
Throughout past movements
of my blunted feather pen,
my mind has been
controlled by frustration.
Pages of depleted reams litter
the cold stone floor
of this uninspiring shed.

Those pins of medals,
never make holes
in my sweat-soaked vest.
No accolades are ever
thrown my . . .
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***my Dream Girl***
Of course I remember;
being alone in a strange town,
home sick,
missing my family,
looking for closeness
in my new, naval uniform...

and there you were!

I knew it was you,
I reccognised you from a dream.

We danced, we dated,
and dated some more.
Soon, my dream . . .
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