Terrance Tracy
Terrance Tracy Poems
It tickles my bones
and pickles my tones
to hear dogs bark
is to hear bogs dark.
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When I was younger hopes and dreams came into view, soon to vanish with the setting of the sun only to replay a surreal fantasy the next day.
Exuberance of youth unbridled hopes and shackled dreams, desires of flesh chased each day.
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'In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.'
Perfection with beauty a world he did create for humanity to appreciate; a place of no vexation of soul that was his mold.
But then that which was perfect went another direction because of indiscretion there exists aggression from the watchers that calls for insurrection of God's perfect creation.
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The Evergreen, Maple, and Oak trees show their beauty of greenery; offering shade for poetic inspiration if you walk through the open door.
The sound of various birds distinct and clear singing songs to be heard through the open door.
A gentle breeze plays a tune through the leaves of the trees put one's soul at ease for worthy meditation when you walk through the open door.
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In this world vitriol and hate
a little levity I hope someone
would appreciate
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A lost soul on a journey travels a slippery slope, not caring which way the soul is to lope, till the lost soul reaches the crossroads of life with choices to be made; conformity to the world's staff or travel the ancient paths that are tried and true.
Choosing exuberance for the slippery slope, the lost soul declares, "I have seen your ancient paths that are tried and true, I will not travel that superstition for the world is my hope."
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When one stands to glare at the sun, the brilliance of the light will leave you in darkness without vision and a price to pay for admission.
You may feel that you soul is lost and you must pay your cost to spend time in your plot of ground only be seen by those who are around that kept you bound.
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How ironic it seems, our journey began racing for the prize; the DNA that someday would emerge on earth at the expense of a mother's girth.
Our course was set to sail through uncharted waters whether we are sons or daughters in a vast ocean, predetermined by a higher power, for He is the only one that knows the time and hour.
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I have heard it said all we learn from history is that we do not learn history, is that because we have forgotten how to listen to that still small voice.
A prophet of old preformed mighty deeds in the name of the Lord only to run from an angry queen's threat, I will have your life; for the prophet could not hear that still small voice.
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'Every kingdom divided against itself is bought to desolation, and every city or house divided against itself will not stand.' It seems as though history has become a mystery unwilling to be solved.
If only we would unite we would not have to live in fright and become a nation of great resolve.
If one can only learn from history the mysteries of contentment, the peoples of the nation would work their parcel of ground, free from those who have nothing but resentment of that which they do not own.
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Does a house make a home or does the edifice stand alone; do people constitute a home, as a residence with the evidence of a house is a home.
Humanity has built cathedrals in which to worship their God; forgetting their promise that their reliance is on God, and yet we are purchasing insurance for the blessed assurance our portfolios will give us care if we wisely invest in their share.
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Have you often felt alone and off track, separated from the only one can atone?
Eternal fear has whispered into your ear not from above but from below.
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As we sit in the pews do we think of our virtues as some do, uttering phrases of piety that defy the Deity, who say keep to yourself do not come near me for I am holier than you.
The oboe plays a sorrowful tune the rhythm of the harp is not melodious, the furrow is an odious melody played to our Deity as a fire that burns all the day when we worship that way.
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Harken to the voice, which calls from the flesh to drink of the water from a vessel or sink, drawn by the works of a heavy load.
Heartache and tribulation accompanies each day with false promises of life full of elation; only one finds that he or she is still facing the same situation when drinking from the well the water that keeps sons and daughter in the prison of depression.
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SOCIAL patterns of behavior of the past and present generation are subject to the present perception; unfairly applied by man you are justified or judged by one's opinion, not by your Redeemer.
The steps in which we fall is the last called to mind to which we are prescribed, conviction or redemption by all, in or out of fellowship with one another, forgetting our Redeemer is the one that judges all matters, given authority to our Redeemer a position granted by His Father.
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O the anguish that hurts the soul are words spoken when one's emotions are high, vicious accusations relentlessly expressed gave birth to a foolish journey to find some rest.
The seasonal high humidity and heat accompany the disabled voyager on a foolish journey to what end he did not know nor care.
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O Lord Give Strength
Each day is replete with tribulations to endure, can I compete often I am not sure.
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The Wanderer
The wanderer charts a course knowing the destination he is to pursue; he wanders about until he is through.
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Terrance Tracy Biography
I was born in Port Arthur Texas USA in 1947. I lived in Port Arthur the first four years of my life with very sketchy details just glimpses of my childhood is all that remains. We moved to New Iberia Louisiana for several years we lived in my mother's hometown I remember my father going to California to find work. I was scarcely prepared for what I was to endure in the first grade. It seems to me that is where my life began for I was sitting in a classroom filled with other children that were cognizant of what the teacher was trying to teach, but as for me, I had no idea why I was sitting there. I must have learned something because I was promoted to the second grade (get rid of this kid) a phrase often heard or thought would run through my head for the next three years. At the completion of first grade we moved to Southern California until the completion of my sophomore year of high school and returned to Louisiana living in Loreauville a small village town 6 miles east of New Iberia.I finished my last two years of high school and joined the Navy. After active duty I attended a vocational technical school where I received my diploma as an electronics technician. I worked in the consumer industry for 20 years and then in industrial electronics industry for 18 years. At age 62 I was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease unable to work because of the medications and pain of constantly shaking for four years. Recently I went through a surgery to have a neurotransmitter implanted in my chest with wires leading to my brain to calm tremors of my right side and it will be an ongoing therapy for the rest of my life. I began writing commentaries on Bible scriptures that has inspired me. After four years of writing commentaries I was becoming a little bit to critical would not my Lord be better pleased if I wrote them in the form of prose instead of criticism, would not He be better served with poetry. For that I often pray that he gives me something to say to put life back into the light from the darkness from which it came. Terrance Tracy)
The Best Poem Of Terrance Tracy
Spoonerism
It tickles my bones
and pickles my tones
to hear dogs bark
is to hear bogs dark.
When birds are chirping
do you hear chirds birping
as you walk in the shade
do you salk in the whade.
When you smell a rose
it is painful to rell a smose
when a bee stings you
does the stee bings you.
When you smell the mountain air
you may mell the sountain air
as you are sliding down to bottom
you are bown to the dottom.
The nuances that you read
are products of anticipation
in the program of voice recognition
so don't blame me for what you see.
Terrance Tracy
Terrance Tracy Comments
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