Ted Sheridan

Ted Sheridan Poems

I looked upon her beauty as a flower
I hesitated to pinch her from her stem
Instead I planted myself next to her
Where I too have flourished in a sense…..

The religious man
may have a questionable retirement plan
his devout faith in God

Here is where.....
Madmen write verse for their amputated lovers
with blue fountain pens and quills of clotted ink
Scribbling morbid memories yellow with old malaria

Who can understand
what we feel inside
When we gaze into the eyes
of the shadows

What makes you cry?
I pray it’s not always me
As you have convinced me many times
The real me

In the Darkness
Under the investigation

Today I had a short but very serious
conversation with the tumor
on the back of my head. Now the size of a nectarine,
it has developed a mind of its own. It demands

Nobody gives a damn about you
Until you pick up a gun or strap on a bomb
And kill someone with your version of kindness
Nobody gives a damn about you

A drive by bullet
Gently grazes your head
You go into a sudden death spiral
Your soul leaves

i am too old to learn new tricks
yet too young to forget the old tricks
i am too old to care much about anything
yet i am too young to stop caring entirely

Welcome to the Colosseum
Where pain is pleasure and it is our pleasure to be of service
Lay back on the rack
The waxing poetics are hot and the iced humor is very dry

We die from within and just like our statues
We dedicate to our eternal memory,
So many trinkets sculpted
From concrete, brass, plaster and wood.

There is an extremely fat man
who lives in a gargantuan size house
with his attractive but butterball wife
and their two and one third kids

I choked on the lie that had become me
I choked on the confessional proclaiming
My innocence when partaking in the Body of Christ
It caught in my throat like a log in my eye

Your dirty T shirt reveals such secrets
Your tits catch me staring cross-eyed
Into the eye of your category five hurricane
My brown eyes and

If you can’t catch fish
At least you can dig for worms
Or cut some bait
Because just like our dog

My dear friend, but for clouds in your eyes;

The sun failed to rise. But rise it did today,

We are the Dead Babies
To whom no voice was ever given
Only taken with force...
We are the Discarded Embryos

You want I should rhyme and write something lyrical
You want a poem about mending fences
And not constructing them
Preach to someone else my sweet

Their poems are always about the woods and nature
Each one has an eagle or some kind of a bird mentioned
There are no elves or dwarfs as in real life
Only snow adorned trees and conifer needle covered natural paths

Ted Sheridan Biography

I am and have always been a Conservative, and that one thing alone, in today's world is enough to start a war it seems, even within the borders of my own country. My dreams are very simple...I dream of getting some serious sleep when my life here is finally over and when I awaken on the other side.)

The Best Poem Of Ted Sheridan

*a Devoted Gardener Of Love And Beauty

I looked upon her beauty as a flower
I hesitated to pinch her from her stem
Instead I planted myself next to her
Where I too have flourished in a sense…..

Dedicated to my wife

2008 ©TS

Ted Sheridan Comments

Joseph Daly 10 August 2007

It is said that first impressions can be decieving. I came late to Ted's writing because I was off-line for a while. Tara's comment says it all really. For me personally, I find a warmth to Ted's poems. They have a modern approach and yet are overflowing with emotion. His talent seems to be natural, but this is not meant to blind one to the fact that Ted is disciplined in his approach. Rarely have I seen sloppiness in Ted's works: his structures are fitting and no words seem to be wasted or put there for reasons of pretention.

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Ted - Keep rocking the boat baby! ....And if that dog with his head on his paws ever starts his revolution, tell him I'm in! Another fan - Cheryl Moyer

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I love to read this mans work. Straight from the hip. Blunt. Poetic. Engaging. Erudite. Miss him, miss out. Perfect poet. And I wasn't even going for alliteration, just admiration. t x

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Anna Russell 30 August 2007

Ahh...like a pint of ice cold Guiness in the middle of a heatwave. Or new shoes. Well, I might be exaggerating about that last one, but still, he a damned good poet - and a damned fine man to boot. Hugs Anna xxx

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Emancipation Planz 21 May 2013

R.I.P. Ted Sheridan... you were a wonderful poet (and mentor / encourager) to me... and when you told me after Hxx passed that *you were not much longer for this world yourself*... your brain was a goody... and sorely missed you will be by me... within within is wit... and fondly I remember it now... till the *next meeting* within the aroha... remembrances...

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p.a. noushad 24 October 2008

your poems nerrate the natural truth.

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Amanda Lukas 09 April 2008

A master of the art of sarcasm and wit, with pieces that both stir and charm the senses.

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Ivan Donn Carswell 25 October 2007

Ted Sheridan's redeeming virtues like his writing talent are real, not virtual. He stepped free of poetic mediocrity through a singular style and unique turn of phrase - all without pretention or ostentation. What you see is what you get - real observations, wit, wisdom and an inimitable verve. Rock on Ted! Regards, Ivan

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Subbaraman N V 25 October 2007

Fantastic! Deep thoughts and meaningful messages. Society needs such poets. Go strong, dear Ted!

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