COLEMAN BOMAR - POEMS

Coleman Bomar is a poet who currently resides in Middle Tennessee. He is an Isaac Anderson fellow at Maryville College and a member of the International English Honors Society, Sigma Tau Delta. His works have been featured by and/or are forthcoming in Impressions Literary Magazine, Aphelion Webzine of Science Fiction, 365 Tomorrows,  The Heartland Review, Literary Yard, Danse Macabre, Anti-Heroin Chic, Showbear Family Circus Liberal Arts Magazine, Prometheus Dreaming, SOFTBLOW, and Poets’ Choice Zine.

​Garden Snake

​If Statues make love through marble maple leaves
I can love again in spite of you
No longer loving just to spite you
For ending us like a farmer
Ends garden snakes
With a fearful downward chop
 
When my severed head kept biting
Despite your guillotine thighs
And lithe light loins
You bore down and said death by shovel Isn’t death at all:
If said shoveler loves you
If said shovel has a bag over the blade
If said shoveler isn’t aiming for the heart
 
You say to a severed head

​Mommy

​A Man and Mary met in Mary’s flower shop.
Then made me next to the marigolds
Under hanging magnolias and misty buds.
Mediating musket matrimony after
Monthly maroon moisture halted its modus.
Her mind was made up, with a murmur of
“Mommy.”

​Rocks on a Hill

​Thy shattered slabs of mossy stone
Jutting from mounds apart and forlorn.
 
What hands laid level those rocky forms
That tested time and weathered storms.
 
Were thee small steps to homesteads lost
Or a craggy channel for livestock wash?
 
The forgotten function of bulwark fragments
Countless toil now neglected absence.
 
Rocks sleep forever unerring
But Green and cracked are the boulder’s bearing.
 
Though our work has not expired
To bygone and olden mossy attire.
 
Will boughs of cement buildings soon fade
Under that invariable greenish shade.
 
Thy shattered slabs of mossy stone
Jutting from mounds apart and forlorn.