Terry O'Leary Poems

The Holy Land neath hammer blows -
is this what Jesus prophesied:
when sad-sack's hanged like mistletoes
the sightless see a suicide;
...

Standing lonely in a crowd
Feelings severed, screaming loud;
Heart rejected, growing cold
Trusting ways begin to fold
...

You've mirrored me in gypsy eyes,
which never take but borrow

You've bathed me in your gypsy eyes,
...

Distrait within the dismal night
while drifting down deserted track...
Beyond the bend, a lantern light
illumed alone the vacant black.
...