| Flesh And Blood Poetry by Terry Presgrove copyright©2002-2011 All Rights Reserved |
| ~The Missing Love ~ Is she not there, or simply imaginary dust? He aches to find her, to be only with her. Is the search in vain, declaring him insane? There's much want to give, but so little time to bestow upon her more touch than she can ever feel. He searches and waits, but where can she be found? Is there no one left in the world who can reciprocate love in like fashion? With passion to share be- yond desire's demand, yet she is not there. Much has been learned concerning what she needs, and how to intimately hold her: Touching gently at first, then moving slow- ly to that crescendo, the ecstatic climatic chorus of the two, who have become one; giving themselves, all that they have, merg- ed together, with no secrets, totally reveal- ing who they are, fully loving, caring, enter- ing into that most sacred covenant; placing the companion's self interest ahead of their own. With no ulterior motives, interlacing hearts cheer as the two beats fuse into one. If destiny's desire would simply choose to reproduce the echo, atlas arriving apropos; joy could break out: saluting quid pro quo! Rubbing her feet, caressing her silky hair, holding her without the fear of entering her, is his dare: just to let her know how much he cares. The joy of watching her laugh, wake up in the morning, brush her teeth, comb her hair, the little things that he alone can know brings her happiness, serenity, and a smile that she would swear is embla- zoned on his heart. If she,only, knew the flood of attention and showering treasures of love-making, he would crown her with, if the warmth of true-life was really there! He would take her to the place in the soul that, only, lovers know: where music notes prance in the air with dance, and the breath of bouquet's soaring romance, charms the mega-senses into a passion-filled trance; But fate clings to the banishment of desire, So he shouts louder as he climbs the high- est mountains, walks the longest valleys; crawling through the pig pens; sleeping in briars; crying out to everyone, everywhere, "have they seen her, is she there?" But she is not there, and, time, the arch enemy of the mortal man, is wasting away the gifts, and knowledge that belong, solely, to her. IF his Love could, atlas, Taste it, Hear it, See it, Feel it, Believe it, for He is HERE! |
My Stuff:
| ~ The Harley Ride ~ The spirited wind is blowing a glorious gale, Goose bumps are dancing, and drinking strong ale, Happiness is smiling an awesome mile wide, The heart is pole vaulting with ecstatic pride, Laughter is echoing from deep down inside, The reflection of a friend, securely, near by, And always the roaring of the engine's reply. Touching the artistic expression of God's creation: Diving into the strokes on the canvas of the nation, A sight seeing, majestic, Three-D animation; The orange globe setting, entices fascination, A bright full moon draws an eerie - infatuation; Up and down the mountains and valleys, From east to west - coast to coast rallies. Bouquets of flowers become a treasure trove Of puppy breath mornings inhaled through the nose. Hours of riding make an aching butt scold, But soft sensual pillowing never gets old, As sweet thing, inclining, takes a tight hold, And heart-pounding accelerating, Declares the adventurous soul bold. Mother nature is boasting exhilarating forces. Cavalry prances in formation as warrior horses, Snorting in preparation for the colossal attack, Absolutely no contemplation of a fall back; The senses amplified in an adrenalin flood, Envisioning 'The Charge of the Light Brigade' On this magnificent, mighty-lunging, stud. |
| The Majestic Queen The alluring female is effortlessly tantalizing, Seductively appetizing, and serenely irresistible. See it in the way she walks with royal eloquence: The stirring, streaming, fluent proceeding. Her breath-taking stature summons his every design, Beckoning, magnetizing - their eyes meeting. The cobra dancing, mesmerizing, Hypnotic suggestions that are dazzling, Dulling the senses, testosterone flowing, Endorphin's releasing, poisoning, Then paralyzing his very soul, Encasing volition in obsession stone. Her victims are many: Stretched out from here to antiquity, Prostrate beside the time gates of history, Taking the breath of more men of destiny, Than all the bullets fired by adversaries with enmity. Ninety eight pounds of dainty femininity greeting, And defeating two hundred pounds Of indefeasible masculinity with ease. She is the Trojan Horse in heat, A consuming viral disease, Making the healthy male bedridden Without complaint or doctor's plea. She is the timeless seductress, Who has captured more hearts of men, Than the sum total of all the generals That have ever marched to the drummer's beat. Uncontrollable addiction to her mating call, And no antidote to deliver us from this natural law: Who will save us from this wretched slavery, Deliver our sanity, and dignity or are we impaled To predestined perdition - Forever chained to our desire for her? Compelled and driven to taste her wet lips, Feel the soft contours, rubbing ever so gently, Snuggling within the skin, spell-bound once again, Drugged by the olfactory manipulation That brings pleasing with teasing; Playing the game instilled in us, surrendering to her, Relenting, admitting and confessing: She is the Majestic Queen, Who devours the Tarantula King. |
| Flesh And Blood Poetry Page Links Page Updated: 01/228//12 |
| Introduction These poems deal with the flesh and blood issues of every day life i.e. love, heartache, fear, joy etc and are a macrocosm of my life, reflecting the many mountains and valleys that I have encountered in my walk on this planet. Note: The Vietnam poetry has been moved. Please click here to go to the Vietnam Quatrain page. |
| ~ The Only One ~ If the world was a field of flowers and I was a honey bee, I'd pick all the other flowers, so you'd be the only one to see. If the world was filled with diamonds, and I was a jewel thief's dream, I'd steal all the other diamonds, so you'd be the only sparkling-gleam. If the world was an ocean scene, and I was a fisherman of the deep, I'd throw back all the others in the sea, so you'd be the only one to keep. If the world was wrapped in beaches, and I was the tossing, restless, tide, I'd cover all the other beaches, So you'd be the only sand that's dry. If the world was a forest full of timber, and I was a lumber lien, I'd clear cut all the other timber, so you'd be the only tree that's green. |
| This poem is dedicated to all those who are or that have ever been a member of an internet singles dating club. It deals with one of the most serious issues in our lives, but if it doesn't get a laugh or at least bring a smile, then it has failed miserably.-TP Internet Singles Dating Tag Here we are, sitting in our rock 'n' roll chairs, Separated by much more than a dare. The truth is, we are here because we care, Browsing pictures and profiles, splitting hairs, Acquiescently searching, are you there? Animated faces from fear to Grin 'n' Bear, Mocking, scrolling, stoping, quietly we stare. With Shuffling, fidgeting feet, Shifting in our seat, Heads nod, shake and bob, Makes you want to sob. The Venusian - She wants no part of any shell cons. It makes no difference what the address of the dot.com, Keeping watch on all the Toms, Shawns and Robs, Makes her knees hobnob. Eyes crossing, mind spinning, Just take the bottle and spinner. If only she could pick a winner. Is he ready to tie the knot? That one has even got a yacht! To click or not to click? Please don't get sick. Will he answer or ignore? Well, isn't he a bore. I can't believe he said that, the jerk! He probably doesn't even work. And look at the top of that one shining, The glare is blinding! Oh my ( raised eyebrows ), I can't look at that. Tell me, that has got be a hat! Wow! It's time for me to take a break, Might as well bake a cake. Time to ante up for the Martian - He, Now it's his turn in the barrow to see. Sometimes it feels like a daze, Caught in this ISDT haze. Who could ever get out of this maze? Too many faces, scrambled words and ( Her ) rules, Already dictating and we haven't even talked tools. Give me a break, yeah she's easy on the eye, OK, sizzling, steamy, delicious apple pie, But there are far too many fish in the sea, For a grown man to sit and pee. But what I wouldn't give to see the little tease and me, Straighten up! Men have to always be steadfast, And Remember to never mention her need for Slimfast. Gee - whiz, that one thinks she's hot stuff, My quarter says more than a little rough. Scroll and click. Would you look at that pic? Man, she ain't no pick, Wow! She's Hot! She's not! Top |
| Storyline Page |
| Eschatology & Theology in Poetry |
| This poem addresses the aftermath of a very traumatic divorce and I still get the heebie-jeebies each time I read it!-TP |
Divorce
Singles
Miscellaneous
Family
Romance
| No matter how dark and dreary today may appear, not everything is as it seems. ~ Pity Party ~ Nothing can quench this thirst, Sometimes it feels like I'm going to burst, All of this welling up inside me full of hurt, But I am only atoms from the dirt. The all encompassing hunger That cannot be filled by supper; Tormented bowels can only thunder Standing in line resembling a number. There is the desperate need for a breeze, Every gulping gasp is a another jesting tease, Begging & pleading always ends with a please, Piles of paperwork states I am only on lease. It seems like all that I can do is bleed, No matter where I look there is a need, My black heart is tainted full of greed; The Redwood smiles down at only a seed. |
| Terry Presgrove is a marine combat veteran, freelance writer and poet. Strangely, he did not begin writing poetry until after 9/11/01. The surprise attack on America jolted him to the depths of his soul. After a near decade long spiritual struggle, the prodigal son returned to his spiritual roots, and began to write poetry for the first time. Since December of 2001 he has written over one hundred and eighty poems. |
Ageing
| Crumpled Shoebox With a raunchy rank whiskey stench He downed memories on the rocks The thing he'd always held tautly He placed in a crumpled shoebox Walked a lost lifetime of loving Across a barren field in time To the south end of the pasture Next to an ageing crippled pine Took his favorite reflection A long ago image that morphed And dug a shallow eerie grave Under the twisted lonely dwarf He tore heartsick from his clutches Lowered the makeshift casket down Molded the earth into a mound Sealed the tomb with a gloomy frown Set a limestone as the headstone Knelt a solemn statuesque Mumbled a prayer without breath In the shadow of the grotesque Tried to tell this sad sad story As very best as best can blurt But words are a dying whimper In a buried coffin of hurt |
| Never Storm The Citadel His desire can never hold tight enough to erase The clinging memories behind that other embrace. It matters little how deep the greed is to replace, Only the captured fire has the power to displace. The bold are awed by the height of the scale, Fall far too short and turn hopelessly frail, Like a yacht captain that cannot prevail, When the wind blows against another's sail. The feverish charge is thwarted to wail, And amorous passion ends up in jail; As flames flicker the storm exhales a gale, Then the craved nexus is sucked into hell. Sweet affections must merge into one single trail, Or all attempts to connect will surely turn stale. The steadfast wish will be rewarded and not fail, When the famished invite hunger behind the veil. To seize the citadel through an inner course, It will only succeed with a Trojan Horse, But if the gates remain locked: No outside force Will ever penetrate by might to the source. |
| Encounter At The Counter I was standing in a checkout line, And nearly dropped my sign. She was tall, dark, and did she shine. Man, what I'd do to make her mine! Black eyes glared with penetrating arrows; I bowed to the daughter of the pharaohs. Her contours were painted by Picasso; And she downloaded all my secret in a nano. Not even a smile from the heavenly adorn, As she turned and walked away with scorn, In less than a minute she had me torn, Questioning why I had ever been born? Melted to a slick spot on the floor, Her laser gaze had fouled-up my score; And like the survivor of a war, I staggered slowly toward the door. |
That's Life
| ~The Breath Of Life~ My heart is hang gliding tonight The thrill of life does excite Can you not see my delight How wonderful the flight? The moon is shining bright I am lifting like a kite Reaching an unheard of height Who can feel the might? Up here everyone is a flyer Skipping across the high line wire Such energy will never expire Who would want to retire? Each breath takes me that much higher Look around there are no liars In my desire is this great fire Can you not hear the choir? Share with me this precious gift I am not interested in a rift Time is short and the years are swift Who can make the quantum shift? |
Heartache - Despair
| ~My Dream~ Who desires to come and see Is there no one to hear my plea Someone to share a cup of tea Or join me in a down hill ski Must I climb the highest tree Or cross the restless sea To find one that will agree To make the trip with me Surely there must be a key That will unlock fate's cruel decree So that together we may be Embarking on that forever spree No matter what the entangled debris My dream is of soulmates set free Even if time and space should flee I will never give up on thee |
| ~Whipsawed~ Whipsawed by circumstance Is a common happenstance Mountain top and valley by chance Happy or sad depending upon stance It is time to snap out of that trance And learn a new kind of dance That takes more than a glance One which requires a little advance Emotion will always flow Sometimes it's a thumbs up go But it can be a whale's blow You just never know Hard to figure which will show Usually there is quite a winning roll Just before the deepest low Wishing you had hollered whoa Feelings are fickled That is why your in a pickle It is much better to be a trickle Than a yo-yo sickle This is a riddle About how to control your piddle Not a time to fiddle Or you just might lose your dribble |
| ~What I Miss Most~ What I miss most, is a passionate kiss, Soft hands that bring a gentle, sweet, caress, The way she loved me at her own bequest, Not for a selfish interest request. What I miss most, is heart-tugging delight; Watch the lady try with all of her might; Mesmerizing, deliciously glazed eyes; Shock and awe when she was caught in surprise. What I miss most, is her breath in my ear, The end of sad movies - that trickling tear, The grimacing when she opened a beer, And when the team was behind - her fake cheer. What I miss most, is how she'd be a pest, If I should get all down and out depressed, She would contest until I showed her zest, And protest if I failed to do my best. What I miss most, is watching her undress, Giving pleasure - pretending to arrest, The secret way that our passion would jest; How she made me feel incredibly blessed! What I miss most, is from pillar to post, The way she smiled if I bragged on her roast, The joy she received as a charming host, And her quirky fear of goblins and ghosts. What I miss most, is heard from coast to coast, Nothing new here to ramble on and boast, But what I'd give to tip my mug in toast: Cheering a lifetime of squeezing the most! |
| ~ Miss Debonair Grace ~ She has an incredibly addicting smile, One that a grown man would walk a mile To see and would do anything to beguile, This lass with such a delightful nobel style. Freckles that enhance her royally adorned face, Skin that is smoother than a porcelain vase, Dancing across life's stage with debonair grace, Her petite natural body designed for the chase. Mortals can only dream of winning her favor in the race As there is no other like her in time and space, Traversing a thousand galaxies would find no trace Of such a heavenly countenance like hers to embrace. And as beautiful as her external form takes shape, A mere man could never run away and escape From that seductive inner woman amulet trait That floods the universe in search of her soul mate. |
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Email: press_ie@yahoo.com
| ~The Jury Has Spoke~ I drifted off young and in the zone, And woke up old at home alone, A withering collection of bone. A blink, the rabbit, a puff of smoke, Magically disappearing in a stroke, Gosh, it feels like something's broke. Wow! This ain't no funny joke! The space time jury has spoke, Only trees are ringed with oak. Who the hell burned the toast? Someone better delete this post, Or the mirror will frighten with a ghost. All of our peers make up the gray host, Standing in line along the foggy coast, Moving rapidly toward the outermost. It is not my desire to provoke, Or cause anyone to choke, But Gee Whiz, we're getting close folks. |
| ~ I Wish You Enough ~ I wish you enough sun to keep your smile shining bright I wish you enough rain to make you thankful for the light I wish you enough happiness to bring your soul delight I wish you enough sorrow so the slightest joy will excite I wish you enough heartache to recognize true love's ignite I wish you enough loneliness to relish in a friend's invite I wish you enough darkness to esteem the miracle of sight I wish you enough toil to lay you down for a restful night I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting desire I wish you enough loss to appreciate what you require I wish you enough sour notes to enjoy the glorious choir I wish you enough lows to take your breath as you fly higher I wish you enough trials to make you refined in the fire I wish you enough faith to dance across the highest wire I wish you enough delays so you can smell the flowers I wish you enough hellos to get through the farewell hours |
| ~May The Wind~ May destiny's wind always be to your back The children of your desire never talk smack And celestial blessings burst out of your sack May your dollar accounts remain in the black All your good deeds follow wherever you track And the daily joy of living never go slack May dark clouds turn away from their attack And heavens not be high enough to stack All the wonderful experiences you will pack May the love of your soul be an eternal flame The volition of your heart never turn to shame And wisdom enlighten how fleeting is the fame May your wife and lover be one and the same Every ounce of life get squeezed out of the game And the boundless lust for life forever proclaim |
~ Love ~ Love is always patient and kind, When faced with our faults it is blind. Love is never in a jealous bind, Nor does it take on a boasting mind. Love does not insist on its own way, It will not lead astray. Love can never betray, And love will not accept pay. Love is not arrogant or rude, It cannot whine and brood, Neither will love cause a feud, And finds it impossible to exclude. Love is saddened by the wrong of things, But rejoices when goodness springs. Love takes us under her wings, And carries us away as she sings. Through all things love will bear, Refusing to lose hope and despair. Love will forever declare Things that are not as though they are there. Love shall cling to believe, And it will not deceive, Carrying its load daily with each heave, Promising for all eternity never to leave. |
Arts
~ Highway 7 ~ Come experience a ride With me on highway 7 And see rainbow colors Brushed against high heaven Hear the mighty wind Whisper that we're kin And feel a tingling violin Dance across our skin Like a hand in a glove The air lifts a white dove And Joy soars high above Is this falling in love? The desire in your eyes Explodes magic in the skies And for me that's no surprise Your the world's greatest prize! |
| ~ Sir Newt ~ He dances like a sheet afloat Soaring with prances in the wind And romances a shimmering coat Receiving glances that have sinned He is a black and white tease In an Oklahoma breeze The typical flowing gait Which is the standard Newfie trait He loves to run, jump And roll in the dirt There is never a thought to hurt And all the ladies gather to flirt His second nature is to swim Adores doing things on a whim Like fetch the ball And come when I call He relishes in long walks Where sometimes we talk And when I open the hatchback He will never balk With his head out the window Newt is the center of attention In him there is no pretension He takes joy to another dimension And I would be remiss Not to mention the parti pris About slinging slobber kisses To even those he misses He can shake hands With either hand on command And never makes a demand Except snackers from my hand At times, he is a couch potato Dream 'n about a red hot tomato But mostly, he's a trusted friend Someone I can truly depend His favorite game Is Tug of War And each new day We struggle at the chore The truth is, I can be a bore But he is loyal to the core And we have a great rapport Because he never keeps score Newt's Homepage |
| ~Nightly Rendezvous~ She is out there somewhere, tossing and turning, with little fanfare, searching for me, like the rain needs the sea, or a flower the bee, calling out my name, burning like a flame, absolutely unshamed. In her dream we grasp each other's hand. Our eyes and ears demand a tender conversation, filled with golden treasures, both relishing in the measures, enthralled with the temporal, and adorning every syllable are precious jewels. For the love of one another we have become fools: laughing and giggling, planting in her hair a white lily, chanting together and being silly. She takes hold of my soul, squeezing me whole, intending never to lets go. Wrapped in soft pearly sheets, tapped into all of the sweets, the two sharing all of their treats, merging what is known with every nook, and cranny being sown, as they reign from their throne. But when she opens her eyes, she finds no skies, the mirror never lies, it says "the vision is a guise," and to her surprise, it is herself that is alone; my flesh and sinew are gone, having faded back to bone. At that moment I cry, reaching out with a sigh, having awakened in the night, connected to her plight, now cursed by this blight, and being robbed of her aroma, leaves me sleepless in Oklahoma, aching for a fleeting kiss, shaking from the withdrawal abyss. Suddenly the flesh returns to my hands, i reach out to touch the desire of our demands. My heart prances, and affection dances across every nerve sensor that gives us pleasure, filling to the utmost measure, ecstasy beyond rapture, my soulmate has been captured! But then - an alarming blast! My head snaps up; must I drink from this cup? This can't be. No! Not Déjà vu? Two dreams are true in the twilight hours - connecting, but the daylight powers respond with rejecting; each morning - condemning, and then once again spinning in a revolving door: heartbroken ritual chore. And though I knew, peering through this surreal view, that we could never rendezvous, i would, still, wish for a forever nightly due, and that it come exactly on cue, rather than risk saying adieu to the ideal you. |
~ Mother ~ She is the essence Of the very first memory Life sustaining energy My first love, friend And original enemy She is that scream Of terror in the dream And the sweetest sound That will ever serenade In a stereo-parade She is the seasoned salt That defines each shed tear Always encouraging to persevere And within her forever embrace There is never a fear I hear the resounding echo Of her endearing laughter In each day's chatter And in every single chapter Of my life that matters She is best known For those Sunday roasts Being a prayer warrior of hosts Desiring revival coast to coast And the Savior that she boasts She soars above the eagle's wing Bathing in the sweet savor of spring It's that mother nature thing That passes on the genetic ring And gives me the poetry to sing She has set my foundations Deep in the inward parts And when I went astray They pointed out the charts That brought me home to stay Her saintly wisdom shines Through all the storms of life Like a neon - truth rainbow That flashes beyond the strife To the pot of gold for my soul I know that she misses dad And at times she must be sad But her steadfastness makes me glad That I have a mother Who finely raised a lad |
| ~That Wichita Kiss! ~ First comes dinner and small talk, Then a chilly, late-night, river walk, That turns into a shivering balk. So back to the car that was still hot, And twenty questions Asked in the parking lot. Sharing intimate fears, History that witnessed the tears, And laughter exhaling the years. Making a genuine connection, That opens windows for inspection Of the innermost soul reflection. Drowning in those dark-brown eyes, The hurtful past fades in the night, And the promise of tomorrow is bright. Which leads to the tasting of sweet lips That are more exciting than exotic trips; Taking the breath away like an eclipse! And the rhyming broken hearts, If only under the starry charts, Become the sum total of their parts. |
| ~ Soul of the Stare ~ From being aware To shadows everywhere, Fading lips slowly move, But only silence is proved. And the transit images, Reflected in twinkling lenses, As they pass in view, Announce their presence. But eyes cannot see, Or the heart plea, In the soul of the stare, What is not there. |
| ~Sorrow and Hope ~ A man finds sorrow weighing heavy on his soul, the chances that he had were many, the choices he made broke the hearts, and love seemed so far beyond his extended reach, as to have no chance in the game that was rigged from the start. But there is hope and life beyond the strife, and in the end, the things he once thought so grand, turned out to be like sand. There is a light that shines so bright it blinds the mortal man, but in that darkness there is the faint glimmer of the dawn that is to come. |
| * Time is Relative * Time is relative. Time is all encompassing. Time wakes us up, and tucks us in at night. Time tells us when we're hungry, and marches us to work. Time sets the axis, and the twenty four segments. Time starts our journey, and then cries foul when we overstay our welcome. Time begins, and ends all things kin to the creature's soul. Time marks the first whimper, and bemoans the last groan. Time limits speed and travel to the light configuration. Time was present at that microsecond when the first cymbals banged. Time will never end until the last trumpet roars, then, and only then, will time be no more. |
My Best Friend My best friend is old Hartley Ache, He was named after his namesake; He comes to my house every day, With a wily-grin that loves to sin. He knows darn well, he'll be fat-full Before the night turns to dreaming. But you see, I feel so sorry for him, That powerful, awful, addictive pull, Never seems to get quite satisfied: By tears that fill the cup brimming, Or a plate full of red-raw bleeding, And his appetite seems to increase With each dawning day's pleading. Sometimes, after supper, I swear, I can hear that old boy screaming, But the sound is a muffled-blare, Like hearing what's inside the stare. I know he sincerely cares about me, Cause he never ever misses dinner. I've got to thinking maybe it's time For him to go ahead and move in: We've got to be such good friends. |
| In The Shadow of Beartooth Mountains Range - Montana Sept. 2006 |
| Mother passed away, as a result of a tragic accident, on October 13, 2005. We miss her dearly! |
| ~ A Poet's Lament ~ The crack of illumination shined through, But not in the considered direction, Which I had intended and did assume: It is glaring to this side of the womb! The brightness pierces my fetal presume, And the sad epiphany does consume; Few things distress more than the vivid truth, If only I had the favor of youth. Too many written words adrift behind, And few with miserly hope ahead, May very well have doomed this token tale To die in an awful abstraction's bed. |
| ~ Complete ~ Listening to the pitter-patter of the in sync feet, Right beside a lady full of tender loving replete; Velvety smooth skin entices with a seducing greet, Tantalized by the rise and fall of each breath's repeat. Her entirety is formed and fashioned perfectly neat, Sleek aerodynamic body luring without deceit; Pondering all the accessories generates more heat, How could any earthy being turn out to be so sweet? No mortal man in his right mind would ever think to cheat, Only heaven could produce such a creature to entreat; Twirling an angel and two-stepping down the moonlit street, Makes a man feel like he's got tickets to a ring side seat! You simply never have to wonder if it's trick or treat, As we are intertwined together at each night's retreat, And apropos, there's no daily tally or balance sheet: Every day is topped off astonishingly complete! |
| ~ Line In The Sand ~ A line is drawn in the stirred up sand, That place where angry words make a stand, And colorful language does tend to expand, So exchanged gifts are better left banned. Deep wounds flow blood in the heartland, As arrows pierce the most vital glands; Truth is "you can't always pick up the strands If you forget the heart that's in your hands." Though you may have decidedly planned, Love is not bound to be a forever brand; Life doesn't have to be wonderfully grand, So be careful what line you draw in the sand. |
| ~ Come Dance With Me ~ He longs to hold her in an endless embrace, Feel hot breath against his weather beaten face, And join with her in running life's risky race. Truth is, it's not the finish line but the chase That brings the ecstatic reward in each case; Squeezing every ounce of joy from this clay, Romping with her in fields of delightful play, Picking the most beautiful fragrant bouquet, Walking the shoreline of the sparkling blue bay, Holding hands in shadows of the fading day. Life is far too short for us not to make haste, There's so little time to debate about waste; Joy has much deliciousness for us to taste: Come put your endearing arms around my waist, And let us dance across this wondrously graced. |
| Letter To Dad Dad, I sure don't mean to embarrass you, but a few things never quite got said. No son or daughter ever in the annals of the history of man, ever had a better dad. Your love for us kids transcends any worldly sense. No earthly father could ever love us more than our dad, Dent. Tears trickling, can only hint at the gratitude and no amount of consid- eration on our part, could ever make a dent on what you have done in love for us kids. Your courage goes beyond any thing known by mortal men. You know, I served along side of some of the most decorated Marines in Vietnam and yet, I tell you in facing life or death, I never crossed paths with anyone on this planet, that came even close to exceeding your courage and display of everyday bravery. Your son, Terry |
| Divorce Who has visited that silent empty grave, deep in the chasm void, Where all the torments of yesterday are viewed as relatively coy, And normal everyday pleasures are forgotten, for there is no joy. The great epic battles of mankind appear as a mere stroll, And the hole in the soul swallows every ounce of self control, Stripping the contents, breaking the basic essentials of the mold; Free falling into the nightmarish pitch-black after losing a hold, Forgetting what it is like to even dream of being bold, With all the blood turned icy-refrigerator cold. Time is caught in a "Ground Hog's Day" illusion, Where Déjà vu is a constant throbbing intrusion; Aching in the innermost gut only increases with the delusion, Crushing the throne seat of essential human emotion, Maliciously attacking the heart, as though a vicious carnivore. The mountain lake damn breaks, draining dry the reservoir, Leaving scratchy lenses to glare into the bottomless core, Wishing that somehow this could be just an anguishing chore, Past wondering if there is ever a chance for life to be more, Praying, groping for an exit, desperately looking for the door. Passing out brings the only relief from the agonizing sore. Family and friends try their very best to reassure, Panic driven to find a credible, legitimate, cure, But fleeting hope goes in one ear and out the other, As all attempts are feudal to find protective cover, Sadly, discovering the patient is already deep in the sewer, But loved ones have no idea how far down in the manure. Is there a savior to resurrect this breathless, dark, contour? |
| ~ Life after Death ~ When going through great emotional torment, everything else fades into insignificance be- side this covetous bully: torturous pain, as the standard bearer to measure all of life's experiences, easily sits on the throne as the quintessential judge, and arbiter of self de- luding reason. It dictates the prism that we view our being, the essential core of what makes us tick, and radiating externally, inter- prets everything else we see or experience. Agony is a vicious, jealous, abuser of reason. Like the tyrannical husband, who demands subservience from his abused wife, heartache can swallows our soul, unless we can discon- nect from its control. It is only when we can stand back from its manipulation, and para- doxically get separation, or space between ourselves and the affliction, that we can then perceive clearly. Otherwise we will fail to see the forest for the trees, and life threatens to always remain the tragedy of a Deja vu tease. Looking away from self to the object of our faith, is essential in producing the necessary interval needed, as this allows us to catch our perspective breath: If the view is from our knees and not shaking our angry peeves. But even then, breaking free from such an enemy does not happen over night. Small increments over time, and then the first baby step, grad- ually creating a gap. The avalanche of horror comes from the six inches between our ears, and must be seen as something that can, and will halt. There was a beginning and there is going to be an end: the cessation of hostility between our thoughts, our will, and our heart. |
| I recall telling family and friends, if given the choice, I would have went through Vietnam again in place of my divorce. Few who haven't gone through a divorce, and particularly after a twenty four year marriage, could possible conceive of such a statement. But for those of us who have been to both places, it should be of little surprise. The truth is, having survived both torments, neither was a piece of cake. Here is my rendition of this particular emotional black hole. Note: The two poems Divorce and Life After Death go together, like night and day, or two sides of the same coin. |
| Long ago, having gone through a hellish divorce, there remains the sobering reality that we must deal with the overwhelming emotional trauma of rejection and separation - spiritually, physically and psychologically. Unlike the Poem "Divorce", this one sheds light, stating that there is hope and life beyond the strife! |
| ~The Odds Say~ Daylight is disguised as pitch black, There's nothing ever in my sack; It seems like all is out of whack, If time could just simply go back, Then my life would get back on track. Right now all I can catch is flack, Around each corner comes attack; I am so tired of getting smacked, This deck of cards has to be stacked, Why does fate have so little tack? Sometimes it all appears as doom, Everyday concerns consume, But the truth is, not all is gloom, On the horizon hope does loom: One day, the odds say, life will bloom. |
| Joy Of Living You've read it in a book, Or heard the story told, But the joy of living, Is daily living bold! |
| ~ Pledge Of Mine ~ If you'd accept this pledge of mine Happy would be smiles that shine When love cast down a weakened knee And made time stop to watch the plea If you'd accept this pledge of mine This heart would dance a high wire line Then breath would pause to catch a wisp Of Blue enthralled with cloudless crisp If you'd accept this pledge of mine Bright eyes would toast their glee with wine As nature rocks a lullaby That lifts kid kites beyond the sky If you'd accept this pledge of mine Our lives would come to intertwine Become one beat - a blink in time The wink that holds eternal rhyme |
| ~ My Lady ~ She has legs that caress his sigh Eyes that seduce desire to fly Lips that humble a strong man's might A heart that lures the clearest sight Her long black hair beckons invite The glistening excites the night And the vain quiver in their fright Bowing in the veil of dim light But for the purest intentions She is the breath of a child's dream The treasure that good men pray for Hope that gives promise to redeem She opens up a brand new life A place where the sun never lies And joy continuously thrives Each moment reaching for the prize |
| ~Happy Anniversary~ The Gold in the bind Is not 'a one of a kind,' It's the everyday sharing That makes the bond shine. Of course Diamonds sparkle, And gifts do bring a smile, But loving you daily - Is walking life's grandest mile. The glue that holds me true, Is the way my soul views you, And no power in time or space, Can change a forever Deja vu. |
| ~ The Best Kind Of Friend ~ Surround yourself with the best kind of friend, And hope will never find itself at an end; Though the ebb and flow may take its toll, You'll always hang on to your soul. |
| ~The Day The Earth Stood Still~ People come, and people go; The world turns in perfect time Around its axis on a constant roll. But when Tommy Hamman said adieu, Our hearts bruised at the news, And the river of life froze icy-blue The earth shuttered to a sudden halt; Connected grief shocked together, Drown in the torment of the assault. Memories cling to the uttered breath: gems Plucked from scantily spoken words, And our affection aches to hear them. Long legs and a mile wide smile, Mingled with a thousand mental snapshots, Overwhelm the sensory ability to compile. But Tommy said "you got to suck it up, Get back in that high saddle, And drink to the bottom of the cup. Like a blink - life's very short; You have to dig in those spurs To get a shot at center court." |
| Tommy Hamman passed away June 21, 2008, as a result of a tragic motorcycle accident. Sharon, his wife, was in a comma until September 1, 2008; at that time she was rejoined with Tommy. Our hearts and prayers go out to the family. Tommy and Sharon will be missed dearly.-Terry |
Friends
| ~ Why Is The Silence So Deafening? ~ Sitting alone in the absence of light, Drinking a beer, rocking my chair, Staring into a bottomless glare With heart pounding red-line despair, And why is the silence so deafening? Suddenly without a conscious care, Weird sensations from left over fears, The faintest vibration of long ago cheers, Laughter and intensive images of tears, And why is the silence so deafening? Someone is lying prostrate on the floor, Pleading his case, begging and more, With promises galore, a bargain is bore, A seal on the door, but it's soaked in gore, And why is the silence so deafening? History that began as a trickle is flooding his soul; opportunities missed, a word here, a word there, the stroking of her hair, But in an instant he's back in his chair, And why is the silence so deafening? A quiver shy of the three pounds needed, Grinding teeth with chalkboard screech, Blind and aching for the cold steel's relief, But his fermented courage fades to grief, And why is the silence so deafening? |
| * Quality of Life * Everyone born on the same day At the same time, And who die on the same day At the same time, Don't have the same lifetime |
| Imagination Thieves The yellow orb hangs In a forever frame Robbing the surreal Of its daily evening meal Beams of light reflect The brilliant rays That reach out to heal And hear nature praise Ghost and goblins Lurk in the tree tops Perched to spring When the twilight is king The shadowy figurines From ominous dreams Silently leap and tease Childhood fears with ease The crunching sound Of stepped on leaves Can be heard In the vision that believes The story is stolen By imagination thieves And is freshly sold Each time the eye perceives The canvas stain Shall always remain But the very next gaze Starts a brand new phase |
| ~ Loneliness~ A gnawing hunger cries out from the black hole, Temporal remedies cannot fix the throb in the soul, Having crossed event horizon there is no control, That place where light cannot escape brings woe. Material possessions are merely diversion toys, There is no substitute for the genuine Real McCoy, Questions linger, sometimes beyond bearable employ. Natural springs on occasion will release and weep, The compelling desire to go run, jump, and leap, Is a mere ghost of the past's haunting reach, Hitting the brick wall of father time's prophetic reap, As history is compressed into destiny's dreaded heap. Today clings to the fading hope of tomorrow's victory, Only eternity has the promise of lasting committed unity, Where oaths taken are fulfilled with divine certainty. |
| ~ Woo Me ~ Take it from the very start The fully loaded cherry cart All that is in the supermart The sum of smart and impart Every point on destiny's chart Drive the dart deep into my heart The highest form of love's art But never pry us apart Dance with my mind in eloquent rhyme Play the beat across the line in time Twist and turn the verse to chime Calculate numbers that are prime Spin a tale of mystery and crime Challenge me to complete the climb After all, I spent my dime Hoping to touch the sublime |
| ~ I Am Sorry ~ I am sorry for all the senseless, hurtful, pain, For the years that ended up, sadly, in vain. I had to be out of my mind, crazy, insane, To have treated my dear love with disdain. I am sorry that I can't catch an aeroplane That would quickly take me back to explain All the things I've learned about true gain, And dreaming of better days that are sane. I am sorry for that self-centered, awful, vein, Of thinking far to much of life's mundane. I had it right there in the grasp of contain, And watched love slip away down the drain. I am sorry that the light could not sustain, As darkness swept down across the plain, And sadness is the mighty king that reigns, Applauding the jester that teases the inane. I am sorry for being the engineer of the train That wrecked and broke the ball and chain. I feel about the size of the smallest grain, And my heart tugs heavily with the strain. I'm sorry that at times I did much complain, And I didn't, near enough, use my brain: Think about the things that should be main, Then perhaps all the treasures would remain. I am sorry that I failed to see and ascertain, So Might Have Been limps along with a cane, Hobbling around the ghosts of memory lane, Wishing he hadn't spilled and made the stain. I am sorry for the dragons that were slain, That I didn't pay ample attention to the rain. How could any man be so stupidly lame? Now all that remains is choking on the blame. |
| ~The Proposal~ Your the One I have desired For a myriad of lost years, Trapped in a bunker of deepest fears, Where only shadows had hope to cheer. Deep down in the darkness I grasp the faintest hope That someday You might appear, Then love would ignite, and make right. The long prayed for flicker of light, Came with a thunderous sunburst - So bright that I almost drown In the sudden explosion of life. Lisa Gaye Kelly - You are the One I want to join in that timeless frontier, The place where joy, truly, never ends, And tears shall never again interfere. |
| ~ Tidbits ~ Red in nature sticks out like a sore thumb, But it is sweeter than a Georgia plum. Sorrow brings heartache and tears, But laughter exhales the years. Foiled desire can break the strongest heart, But lovers cannot be pried apart. The pain of divorce sizzles and sears, But it lives six inches between the ears. Preparing for a race is a pain to train, But there's no prize to win in the lazy lane. Each breath is the joy of a wise man's story, But the fool only hopes for future glory. Life is far too short to cling to a thing, But you must grab hold of what makes you sing. The sun shines on every single one, But living takes place within the shadow's run. Sometimes you simply want to fold your tent, But seeing things through brings the least lament. The best things in life can become a yawn, But you really don't miss 'em till their gone. |
| ~A Sure Bet~ The seconds ticking never sit still for a minute; Sending a signal to the big hand demanding a pennant. Minute by minute filling the hour, and there is no leak, But hours fade to day, and days shake hands with the week. The weeks like a one armed bandit, collecting the days, Until the clock strikes midnight, and another year pays. Rip Van Winkle watches the spinning of the time machine, Every now and then rejoicing to a badly needed cha-ching; But the loot stays in the pouch of the magical thief, And in the end, the casino continuously receives. The hours, days, weeks and years, will ultimately deplete, And the gray haired old fart will give up his seat. |
| ~ Uncovered Hearts ~ Glimpses of movement in the glimmering light, Countless branches waving, bring flickering sight From the globe in the sky that is blinking bright, Causing snapshots of smiles to shine in the night. Silky hair glistens in the mid-autumn breeze, Her laughter bursts out with an audible tease, Trapping the giggles as they end in a heap. Excited endorphins awake from their sleep, And the two inch closer to taking the leap When desire lures them to the edge of the deep. Hypnotic consuming eyes absorb the bold, Enticing-fascination breaking each hold, Plunging into the pitch black of the unknown, Grasping for transparency within lonely souls, Sharing one another's most secret prose, Stripped of all the meaningless clothes; Exposing, unafraid, those deepest hidden parts, Fully giving, trusting with the uncovered hearts, Joining together to make that forever march; Not just pie in the sky, but a real time fresh start. |
| What is.... When stretching 'what is' along a line, You find that the line is all of time, A panoramic photo of its kind, Which is not simply a point on the line, It is a snapshot of all that's called time: 'From the original conception burst, An incomprehensible charging surge, Triggering the Genesis Second Hand, From infinity's asylum of naught, To discover it is the first Tick-Tock: The Alpha of a zillion clicks unlocked, Marching to a perfect cadence clock, Without the tiniest-second thought. Joining in a slow dance with déjà vu, Echoing a Two-step forever tune, But suddenly, the ages old recite Still frames the stunned afternoon, Freezing the phase of the moon; Alarmed by the shocking sight, Gasping at the inscribed sign: -It Is The End Of The Line-.' |
| ~A Conversation ~ Touching the deepest innermost essential, The purest integration point quintessential, Awakening the subconscious need to be whole, To have that one in a billion juxtapose, That glorious intercourse of the soul; Swimming in the neuron exchange, Basking in the radiant bursting rays, Flowing from the conceptual embrace, As cognizant lips share in the taste. Ideas that are being stroked, Bring forth an exciting adventurous disclose, But revelation only wets the curiosity of emotion, Energizing the atoms causing a commotion, And laughter is ignited without being assured, Raising the possibility that the dialog is pure, Unveiling the mystery of who is being lured, Creating the hope of an incredible miracle cure. |
| *Your Father's Son* He came to me in seventy four, some eight pounds plus, fat, and just a tinge of red tint above his ears; with stubby short legs, and a strong cry. By four he was hyper, bursting with energy, and beyond a father's ability to cope. At six, he was already a state champion, and, oh, how proud was he; gifted from heaven with incredible skills, and the little toot always busted his butt to please his ornery dad. His heart was bigger than most any I've seen, his grin would thaw the angriest dad in town, he had the lip of Ali, and a matching wit to trap; those little girls never had a chance when he cracked that heart-melting smile. Then came those teen age years: ouch! Suddenly old dad became quite the grouch. The lad got a little wiry, somewhere between the initial hormone rush and his early twenties, had to learn some hard lessons; like most do. But he made it through high school - whew! Howbeit, by the skin of his teeth, and became an All American, of course; he always was from the start. The Lord and a little blond got a hold of him around the twenty five mark, and the boy has definitely grew up into much of a man. I couldn't be prouder of any son, that came as a gift from above, and now that little squirt's father is your father's son. |
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