Biography of Terry Dawson
Terry Dawson was born in 1955 to farming parents in the former British colony of Southern Rhodesia. He has been a soldier, game keeper, beekeeper and farmer. He lives now in rural eastern Zimbabwe.
Terry Dawson Poems
I've Met A Girl
I've met a girl Louise her name. Within I feel new strength unfurl And I'm no more the same.
A Daydreaming Evoked By Swallows
The spring swallows return anew; I search for the elusive blue; Sky-riders of unequalled grace, Conjures to sight likeness of you.
The Dancing Girl
In an erotic dream I see A shapely girl dance close to me. As sensuous slow music plays, Her slender, lithesome body sways
Soft light by gradual stage reveals (As dark of night recedes) Idyllic scenes which yet conceal Most grim and bloody deeds
Against Wrongs Done Me
Against wrongs done me My spirit raged Hatred-blinded, I do not see That lust for vengeance
The Plum In Springtime (Sixtieth Birthda...
The plum in spring returns to life, In dazzling new white blossoms rife Which pleasure well the heart and mind And sense of calm there leave behind.
Through the dark winters of loneliness Dreaming - hearth-fire of the mind - Is friend. And fellowships imagined are the summers of Companionship
In this life we bear In equal portion Mix dare With caution
The Skeleton Coast
Across the Uhab river's dry bed Lies a land unlike any other, An arid plain beside the sea, Of wild, mysterious beauty.
A Hardworking Wind
Yesterday's bird-busy garden is gone: A hardworking wind got up in the night. A wind, to hear it, with much on its mind, Impatient of trifles; with much to get done.
The barn rooster declares at last, The new day has begun. The farmworker prepares himself To start work with the sun.
Ode To Instant Messaging
Out of Transvaal's wild bushveld wide Rises blue mountain, and on its side There does abide a woman on her own, Louise.
The poet edits Now his poem Mind on fire Mouth afoam
The Harbinger Of Dawn
The harbinger of dawn up high Sings his sweet, liquid notes As it grows light in eastern sky At the new day's approach.
A Campaign Revisited
Africa once again was wracked with pain
As warfare stalked the land
And through the years of the copious tears,
Few could understand
That death and life in the time of strife
Was purely a matter of chance
Thrills were brisk; men took great risk
As they danced that deadly dance.