Theresa Ann Moore Poems

The Heritage Festival occurs in our town each year
It attracts loads of people from far and near…
Campsites are set up with artifacts that are dated
Traditions of simpler pioneer times are recreated
...

Gibber jab:
Words spoken
Intending to stab
...

The splash of refreshing rain revives
as introspective thoughts are discovered
Dry dusty things begin to feel energize
Rescued by soothing sounds… recovered
...

Throughout the day
I go about my business
Steady to the challenge…
images surface in the stillness
...

Her husband died… her child was grown
had many memories… lived all alone
Always was ready to greet and share
fashionably dressed with beauty parlor hair
...

The angry man cursed
At those he loved.
He was in a rage…
What was he thinking of?
...

The extent of my lineage, I can not trace
When I examine the features of my face…
There are many lines of unrecorded history.
There is a familiarity that creates a mystery.
...

Is there something
that would
insure that all your days
will be sunny…
...

When the sky turns deep purple
and the piercing sounds of scorn
seep into much sought after peace;
thoughts of the future are stillborn
...

Your 1986 Thunderbird was meeting with resistance.
You needed a replacement to carry you the distance.
You bought a newer car with money saved and borrowed.
It enabled you to continue your cruise on the long road.
...