Poems

All entries that I consider poetry. When poems are posted, I consider them rough drafts which I continue to edit over the years.

The Shadow Man: The Visitor

by

I’m hearing the voices from the far distant past from a time when earth was on a different sphere

I could see them roaming the empty landscape underneath the constant turquoise sky. And the valley floor went on forever beneath the bright hum of sun accompanying massive cloud ships. The calmness of the wind whipped up silent dust devils that soon hid their view.

I now can hear their footsteps in the forest but something else walks through the undergrowth. I cannot spot his shadow even though I have always known who he is, because he came to me! He disappears in the rays of filtered sunlight that drift through the skinny pines.

This shadow man constantly dances with me even in the lively flame of my red warm fire; both the fire and the shadow man against the black night – flickering off the trees under the twinking stars. . . those infinite star systems as far as the eye can imagine.

In the early morning the smoke is still rising from what’s left of the smoldering embers and I can catch the wisp of slight burning juniper, maybe a little sage.

I have never forgotten this man – The Visitor who came to me in a deep sleep when I was a 18. His face still haunts me with beautiful flashback memories. This thing, the spirit, the entity, this old man killed my greed and healed my heart.

By Nathan Cowlishaw

December 31, 2017

Tonight, They Arrive!

by

Tonight, They Arrive!

They came pouring through the portal
like fiery stars
speaking in eternal languages
beyond our threshold
waking me, in the middle of the night
and awakening the soul
to the biggest thrill of a millennium.
Never thought this was possible
or even close to real but
it’s happening
I’m leaving
I’m gone.
Going back into the portal
heading for closer
to the far-away
listening to the little people
singing their strange themes
inside these cobweb tunnels
descending back in time
forward in a backwards sense
All beauty ripping loose
from the seams of surreality
This, a dream coming true, unfolding
a reality, beyond a vision.
I welcome you
Into this mystic.

By Nathan Cowlishaw

Fresh from the Transfer

by

Mind Opening Portal
exploring the possibilities
as infinite as they have become
as soon as I had broken the windows
of everything I knew.

Then, as if divinity stepped in,
there he was with all the
beauty that he brought with him
to give to his chosen
unconditionally.

Sentient spirits came from
out of the thundering abyss
from the deep billows of the storm
and down below
all was calm and mesmerizing.

Somewhere out of this chaos
came a powerful peace that predates
our time and place
that came into our space
and brought us together.

It’s quite extraordinary,
this unknown scheme
that is more natural and mystic
than earth-made systems
And into this unknown we venture.

by Nathan Cowlishaw

They Are Returning

by

2016; first; snow; summit; sage

They Are Returning!

As I was driving out on the highway tonight
outside of town
watching the sun disappear behind the mountains
with night settling in
crimson slivers of light
igniting the bottoms of cloudships

I felt the warm November winds
of the snowy high desert plateau
in an unusually hot winter

It has been a decade since this mystery
paid me a visit
but the hills of juniper and pinion
are calling me
I could hear them
as they distinctly whispered

Tonight was a desert dance of red fiery
with a light rain upon the snow
and the stillness of the clouds
and the slightest breeze swirling
around me after halting the vehicle and listening

My dreams of the old ways are returning
I felt their strong embrace
not sure what it is exactly that is haunting me?
but the taps of the rain hitting softly on the tin roof of my Suzuki
alerted me to the presence

Things that remain unknown to most
are returning to me as of late
a multitude of eternal intelligences
that provide the shrouded glimpses into the infinite
beyond this life

By Nathan Cowlishaw

My Inter-Dimensional Self

by

This heart of mine dreams
because I have a really beautiful soul
that knows and feels the mysteries of the Earth
And recognizes the most subtle light in the canyon
and the complex and simple sounds of the Unknown.
I’ve prayed to my Creator, daily
verbally and in thoughts,
and ponder about
The Creator of the Universe, daily
and wonder if he can really hear me, still?
Somewhere, I’m out there in interstellar space
listening to those far-distant stars
and down in the trenches of the darkest
parts of the Earth’s ocean –
And I’m up there with the traveling snow
being swept off the highest peaks
and down in the desert bottoms where
the whirlwinds whip and roam.
Love cannot be this timeless,
but it still hurts this same heart
because I am human when my eyes are open
But I’m capable of endless visions…

by Nathan Cowlishaw

Honey-lit Afternoon

by

Dreams of a honey lit aspen afternoon
Smiles full of laughter
Trying to keep a straight face
Lost in the reality of it…
In the simplicity of your dignity and grace

Coming off the mountain
And meandering off the desert mesa
With you nearly by my side
On a sunny summer afternoon
Singing folks songs…

And I look back on it all
And it all comes back to me
In the moment

By Nathan Cowlishaw

Real Beauty

by

Real beauty surpasses the physical realm
and is eternal.
There is a reason we change worlds
while this life is short.
Our evolution is infinite
even though we all must face death one day.

by Nathan Cowlishaw

Date with Jazmin

by

The wind softly
sliced through pinion branches
while the sunset’s crimson fire
burned the rock face
Imprinting trees in shadow.
As purple monsoon clouds shifted.
in the early August air
The chorus of insects sang ancient
flooding our senses
with ethereal sensations.
Somewhere, between
reality and dream

She is my new muse… An artist is she…

by

I can hear the soft whisper of the wind as it gently brushes the window blinds and evening starts to set-in… The Robins are singing in the late afternoon summer. Fine sediment is blowing in from the dust bowl west of town. And I’m just thinking… thinking about a lot of things.

Life is full of beauty with the simple, if you just let. them. be.