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Brent Terry Poems
Some may wonder if a soulmate can be a real thing or not. Or if it's a sick and twisted novel without conclusion or plot. If true... then where exactly do they fit in? Did they skip an important chapter, and not know where to begin.
While strolling along the beach The sand forces its way into our tired arches And we stop and lay down to rest our feet And feel the warm breeze in the night darkness
The Wake-Up Kiss
Today is one of those glorious days, The kind that can take my breath away. Making me wish time could stand still, But doing so would erase the ongoing subtle.
Somewhere In the Middle
The world is cold out there And I have you to warm me once in a while Crisp biting reminders that graciousness is gone Splintering shivering replaced it long ago
A complex surround of five sit ‘round as Santorini sleeps Long before Strongyle dropped from under the Minoan’s feet Pyroclasticly lofted a wave t’ward Crete before it had time to think Now calmly rests the cool caldera with mythical Atlantis mystique
The Same As Years Past
What makes this year different than the last? Each year I get older, but feel younger. I do! Those around me loose their hair, and gain weight, And determine their happiness on something that eludes.
I used to go through life on even keel, Not stretching out or prone to kneel. Not questioning what came my way, Nor turn my back from the Sun’s face.
The Train Race
As in most places… Railroad tracks run along the river here, And at this place, on my side they’re near. Although I can’t see them until further up,
One and Only
Your long elegant neck, Catches my attention from across the room. And your golden color, Looks as if continually kissed by the sun.
Mt. Esja, looms with an airy pomp, And keeps watchful eye on cityscape. The blameless blue reflect from Snaefellsjokull, Holds cerulean drape ‘round a peninsulas nape.
There was this puddle. Thin, completely frozen, and opaque. I was just out back again, And looked for this puddle because it caught my attention before.
Lago d’Orta is a tranquil lake, And can be taken in with a single glance. In the fall the air is so clear, Visiting lungs, welcome it with eager chance.
Square-shaped pools under wind-swept cliffs, The main island of the archipelago exudes. Private, yet an open window for all to see into, A life compelled to solitude.
Today it started snowing here Really hard and dense Void of pushing wind To angle flakes descent
Comments about Brent Terry
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Some may wonder if a soulmate can be a real thing or not.
Or if it's a sick and twisted novel without conclusion or plot.
If true... then where exactly do they fit in?
Did they skip an important chapter, and not know where to begin.
Many ideas skirt close to it - I'm sure,
Like feelings of deja vu, and having known each other before.
Similar interests.. too make a good ring,
But still not quite it... there's more than those things.
At times you may know each others thoughts without speaking,
Email or phone each other seconds apart from just ...