I've had the pleasure of publishing two books of poetry. I write rhyming poetry about history, fantasy, and life around us. Some have a moral and many speak to the heart.
http://www.lulu.com/content/422828
A storyteller of the greatest magnitude, Mr. Rowley has the inate ability to view the simple and show the reader that the simple can be the extraordinary.
With old fashioned rhyme and rhythm, alliteration, perfected sonnets and true form poetry, Paul weaves a tale with each line.
These are the poems of the people - poems of history. Many are shortened epics of sorts and you read with bated breath...awaiting the finale.
Mr. Rowley has put his mind and soul into this book and it is a must have for any collection. No matter the emotion - the reader will "feel" these poems and turn the page for more.
~M/Gatlianne
No sound of children's laughter now, no noise of running feet,
No whinny of delivering horse, nor sound of pet lamb's bleat.
No teacher with her big brass bell, no squeal of chalk on slate,
No more sums or spelling words, no poems to contemplate.
The chill wind moans through missing panes, the drab sky speaks of snow.
The rutted road would disappear if only grass would grow.
The tiny steeple’s empty now, its shingles loose and torn,
The absent sound of clanging bell is silent and forlorn.
The prairie grass is brown and short, a meal for wan’dring cows,
Where once it bent to children’s feet, no people pass by now.
The barbed wire fence that stretches by was not there in the past,
It tells the world the weathered school is now an aged outcast
Who has trod the ancient boards, passed through the missing door?
Prime Ministers or simple folk, the famous and the poor?
Were lessons learned within those walls that now let in the light?
The things the eager children sought to help tell wrong from right?
One more blast of howling wind sweeps low along the ground.
A gentle tapping from within, a haunting eerie sound.
Echos from the distant past, a ruler raps on wood,
Some frightened faces turn to look, the message understood.
In rev’rant awe I stand and look, and marvel at this place.
Maybe it’s the biting wind that’s caused my tear-stained face.
A simple weathered building that reminds me of the past,
And fills my soul with memories, the kind I know will last.
Let yourself be lost in the imagery filled tales and historical lore of the poetry in Word Bridges to Castles of the Heart.
.
The spectacular wording and epic poetry of Word Bridges to Castles of the Heart will fill your mind with amazing sensations and will keep you turning each page for more. With each stanza of wonderfully written poetry, Mr. Rowley takes you on an outstanding journey into other worlds with tales of times long past and eras of imagined reality.
Follow scenic narrative, chronological adventure, wistful adoration, lovable characters, uncontrived humor and believable lines highlighted by a variety of original artwork by Renelle Sommerville.
Part historical; part fantastical – Word Bridges to Castles of the Heart is history and story in one beautiful poetic tome.
Marianne Gatlin/Gatlianne, author and poet
Life and Love (Sonnet Crown # 57)
Elementary Love
I carved our names in Lawson’s giant oak,
And jabbed my finger on the final score.
We giggled, then we shared a frosty Coke.
I loved her as I’d never loved before.
And yet, at twelve, what was this love to be,
For how could we know what the years might hold?
Still, as we lounged in shade beneath that tree,
Each dreamed of how our futures might unfold.
We nestle in the dew-kissed grass of morn,
As card’nal’s crisp, bright chirp cuts through the air.
And playfully, my once carved chips adorn
The silken tresses of her raven hair.
Her blue eyes match, and stare up at, the sky,
I watch with feelings that I can’t deny.
Teen Love
I watch with feelings that I can’t deny
As she walks t’ward me in the setting sun.
Her silhouette against the ev’ning sky
Tells me she’s growing up, this special one.
Although it’s ev’ning here as we embrace,
And crickets sound the knell of shrinking light,
My mind, at peace, drifts off as I retrace
Each step that led to where we are tonight,
And makes me realize that sixteen years
Have changed the little girl that lived next door
Into a gorgeous teen whose smiles and tears
Endear me to this lass that I adore.
As moonlight’s aura swaths us in its glow,
We share a love we never will outgrow.
Marriage
We share a love we never will outgrow,
That’s led us to this wondrous day of days,
When what we do will let the whole world know,
When we hold hands and then recite the ways
We’ll honor, cherish, love, when rich or poor,
And faithfulness we pledge for all our years.
And should some problems come we can’t ignore,
We’ll work them through amidst our hugs and tears.
I gaze into those eyes I’ve known so long,
And she returns my look and clasps my hands.
The lasting love we’ve shared remains so strong,
It’s symbolized by two small golden bands.
At question’s end she speaks her strong, "I do."
I smile at her and whisper, "I love you."
Children
I smile at her and whisper, "I love you,"
And kiss a sweat-drenched, pain-contorted cheek.
I try to share in what she’s going through,
And pray that I’ll be strong where she is weak.
"It’s time," she said, about two hours ago,
A race against the clock ‘midst pain and groans.
But in that pain resides a dazzling glow,
For soon we’ll have a child from seeds we’ve sown.
A gasping breath, she pushes and she strains,
"One more!" rings out, "and then you’ll have a son."
And so once more her face contorts in pain,
Our son is born, and mom’s ordeal is done.
We hug and watch the bundle we adore,
While won’dring what the future holds in store.
Middle Age
While won’dring what the future holds in store,
When goos and giggles turn to sighs and tears,
And burps and rolling eyes and, "Mom, he swore!"
Force us, the parent police to interfere.
So gramps and grams just watch us with a smile,
While hearing words they spoke so long ago.
They somehow knew that it would take a while
To learn the things that we would have to know.
But navels pierced and tattooed hips aside,
And broken bones, we all somehow survived.
We look at each of them with boundless pride,
As empty nesting days at last arrived.
Defined as mom and dad for all this time,
The mirror says we’re slightly past our prime.
Retirement
The mirror says we’re slightly past our prime,
The mind, howe’er is as it was back then.
We’re now much more aware of steeple’s chime,
And sometimes wish that we were young again.
A summer stroll as we walk hand in hand,
We talk of beauty and the years gone by.
That time has helped us grow and understand,
Although we are not nimble nor as spry.
But like the bird whose song we recognize,
Whose instincts from within and from without
Are like what’s made us just a bit more wise,
Than when we were so young and filled with doubt.
A smile, a squeeze, a gentle warming touch,
Those precious things say I love you so much.
Old Age
Those precious things say I love you so much,
Rich memories that come so often now,
Of joys and sorrows, warming hugs and such -
As much as fading intellect allows.
While standing in the dew-kissed grass of morn,
And tracing chiseled words with age-dimmed eyes,
A small, stooped man looks lonely and forlorn,
As one more time he whispers sad goodbyes.
A breath, a sigh, he turns to face the day,
One last look back, his tears a silent plea.
And I, his first born child, can only say,
"I love you dad, now come on home with me."
And there dad says, as we two share a Coke,
"I carved her name in Lawson’s giant oak."
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
I still read your first one. Gatlianne is 100% correct. I loveeee your work... which... you knew that already 
Congratulations... again... on your published books.
dee
I'm so buying your books when I have money 
