Sandra Fowler born in West Columbia, WV February 4,1937. Has been writing poetry for almost fifty years.Associate Editor, Ocarina from about 1978 to 1989. Had a poem nominated for The Pushcart Prize,1998. Wazir Agha dedicated his Selected Poems to her in 1998. Interviewed by skylark Purdue university Calumet,2000. Honorary Doctorate, World Academy Of arts and Culture,2002. Wall Of Tolerance Honoree,2002.Biography listed in Who's Who Of American Women.Marquis and The Dictionary Of International Biography.England. Chosen by The International Poetry
Translation and Research Centre and the Journal, 'World Poets Quarterly, (Multilingual) , published in China, as
one of the best international poets of 2005.
Chosen by the International Poetry Translation And Research Centre as one of the best Critics of 2007.
Some of her reviews of the work of Indian poet,
Rajaram Ramachandran can be seen at Divine Channel.in.
A CD entitled, 'Before The Music Ends' which featured thirteen of her poems was done by Global Definitions
in 2008. Reader, Ihab Badran. Production, Nancy Badran.
An essay, 'Sandra Fowler: An Exposition', Gina Roussos
for her English Honors Class,2008. Ms. Fowler's poetry
has been translated into seven languages and has, courtesy of, 'The World Poets Quarterly', appeared in 190 countries.Editor's Choice 1-Award, 'The Enchanting
Verses',2009. Member U.S. Executive Committee, United
Minds For Poetry Society,2009-. Inducted into the
Lifetime Achievement Hall Of Fame, UMFPS,2009.
Biographical data included in, 'Who's Who In The
World', Marquis,2009.
Words paint a fragile picture of the dusk.
I think them to a poet far away.
The light shines dim upon my windowpane.
A few tears fall like blue rain in the mind.
...
You made me love the teachings of Tagore.
My thoughts were mesmerized by your sitar.
I kept the little flowers from India,
Artfully pressed to span a century.
...
If one could bridge the distance with a word,
A journey would become a pilgrimage.
Elegant letters slant across the page.
My leaf has found a home upon your coat.
...
Arms hold the soundless music of the sky.
The lyricism of the soul burns high.
Brief poems dance with distance against space,
Snow interlocks the landscape into place.
...
You claim my thoughts,
Though you have never seen your name in frost.
I think the window of a distant train
Still mirrors you like a poem in its glass.
...