Terry O'Leary


The Poet - Poem by Terry O'Leary

THE POET'S PANEGYRIC


'There's someone I knew with talent unleashed
and a heart that had for so many relentlessly reached
This poet sought inspiration from the living and the dead
But I can tell you this about the poet who has moved me by what this poet had ever said
I read the words from a comfort zone
which this poet created, surrounded by friends or by foes or simply alone'
His essence of soul sweeps down deserted dead streets
where the thunder still crackles, the burial bell bleats
He laughed at himself as a Royal Rhymester Clown
but bore the black pains of those all aroun',
He echoed regrets but never a grudge
... of this I'll say little... let his lines be the judge

THE POET'S PEN

Blind shots cry out beneath the night,
a car is cruising by.
A stripling's blood streams words to write
... Wry rhymes to ask us why

A silly girl with child, unwed...
to many, but a slut.
The baby at her breast is dead
... Cruel couplets meant to cut

A drifter, broken, cast aside,
lies lifeless in the cold.
Tap tattoos on a tattered hide
... Some scarlet stanzas scold

Two lovers clutch a turtledove,
enraptured by her coo,
impaled on pangs of Ladylove
... A sultry song for two

A drone of drums in distant wars
beguiling bold dragoons
who sell their souls like wanton whores
... Raw rhythms writ in runes

The stars ablaze, like tiger-eyes
reflecting candlelight,
'lume angels singing Lullabies
... A sonnet stuns the night

The soulless eyes of shackled slaves
bleed tears that burn and blur.
Their ash, like dust, set free in graves
... Emblazing ballads stir

A hurricane, foretold, unfurled,
unravels mystic signs
as Demons dance, destroy the World
... Limned lurid lyric lines

Some die a death neath hangmen's hands
where tainted justice reigns
for ‘thou shalt kill', Revenge commands
... A quiet quatrain pains

While well-to-dos amass and flaunt
And follow fashion's trends,
pale children starve and die of want
... And so an epic ends

THE POET'S EPITAPH

His words lie strewn along the sand
While breakers wash ashore
The ripples weave designs unplanned
... a verse forevermore

His tales, entwined in cryptic airs
where freedom seeds are blown,
warn Guarders of the Realm ‘beware'
... his heresy is sown

His life outlined a chronicle
along a lonesome road
It started out as doggerel
... and ended as an ode





Written with a 'little' help (the first 7 lines) from my extremely talented, but somewhat modest, friend, JC who wishes to remain 'ANON'...

Topic(s) of this poem: poetry

Form: Elegy


Comments about The Poet by Terry O'Leary

  • Shahzia Batool (5/17/2013 4:22:00 AM)


    a complete plot-structure discerned! ...well-conceived! ! ! (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Unwritten Soul (4/9/2013 12:08:00 PM)


    Great rhymes but wait, it offers more than that, the meaning in every read it has the bright shine! loved it, kudos for both of you_Soul (Report) Reply

  • Ellias Anderson Jr. (1/28/2013 7:22:00 AM)


    ANON......... this poem...terry.....so nice........just nice...just perfect.... wow...... (Report) Reply

Read all 3 comments »



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Poem Submitted: Friday, January 18, 2013

Poem Edited: Wednesday, May 17, 2017


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