Terence George Craddock (Spectral Images and Images Of Light) Poems

Red wine like warm blood
flowed from our glasses.
Invigorating finely tuned senses
where race inherited memory reclined.
...

Who was Bacchus

and why
was he
...

I am prostrate
lying
in a horizontal
position
...

Gold Finances Possessions
are not true wealth.
Give them to a dog the dog
does not care.
...

It’s a small town.
It’s only a suburb.
But it’s a nice suburb.
...

As night veils known land
so God veils
the unseen mysteries to man.
...

Across black boundless void
spins cosmic dust
upon shining solar wind.
...

That which was
is and always will be.
Nothing is ever lost.
...

Like a fresh
sweet flower
to soon it is
for thee to wilt.
...

I am one
of those
incurables
...