Terry L. Young
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Terry L. Young Poems
The Drums of War
Beat, beat, your drums of war. Be all you can be, you can be no more.
North Beach Ghosts
Remember the days, Those days of Flower-strewn Streets & summer
Winter California, rainy gloom cast on a lost night. A haiku shouldn't be sad.
So where are you now, Little girl with sad eyes? How you touched me then.
Mississippi by the river banks. Mark Twain steamboats slipping past iron barges,
Dusty, Dust roads, Chimney dark Smoke,
January in the North Country, Icy stars plodding through
Fields of Rice, a Haiku Trilogy
Water buffalo Standing knee-deep in green stalks Contemplate the war.
San Francisco Street Notes #1
Under the dripping Beams of March, Into the shadows Of a dying winter,
Notes From the Village
Bleecker Street just before October dawn,
Wabash Moon, a Haiku Trilogy
Skipping water bugs stamp ringlets across the moon. The river flows south.
O Seattle in the rain, You & your rain drops & puddles
Chicago ice nights on the Loop peering into windows
They're digging for bones in Vietnam- old bones from an old war
Comments about Terry L. Young
(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)
The Drums of War
your drums of war.
Be all you can be,
you can be no more.
your banners of gore.
gather your armies
from the ranks of poor.
The bugle's call,
& carve your names
On a stone-cold wall.
your drums of war,
then leave us in peace
& say no more.