When life feels upside down
And you only carry a frown
Place your amour of hope
As your main outer coat
Hold your head up high
Look towards that sky
I promise you and me
This too shall flee
And once again
We will smile and grin.
Written by,
Terry Shepherd
I Should be Fearless
I am old enough
Smart enough.
I should be fearless.
Pity, holds me here,
Fear of failing,
Lack of strength,
Never reasons
Enough to lay
Where I am today.
Written by,
Terry Shepherd
I am an administrator of a Poetry Group called Poetry in my Mind. This week we had an assignment that took much more time than other weeks. We chose one of our favorite poets. We mentioned important information about him. We were to also post one of his poems, explain what form it was, and then write a poem in form and similar.
Here is the link to the poetry group I am involved in. If you would like to partake in the contest, let me know. You must be a Facebook member, so that I can send you a special invite to contests. There is a weekly and a monthly contest.
I chose Edward Lear, for his silly, no-nonsense poems. This is what I had to say.
I am writing about the poet Edward Lear.
Edward Lear (12 or 13 May 1812[1][2] – 29 January 1888) was an English artist, illustrator, musician, author and poet, and is known now mostly for his literary nonsense in poetry and prose and especially his limericks, a form he popularised. His principal areas of work as an artist were threefold: as a draughtsman employed to illustrate birds and animals; making coloured drawings during his journeys, which he reworked later, sometimes as plates for his travel books; as a (minor) illustrator of Alfred Tennyson’s poems. As an author, he is known principally for his popular nonsense collections of poems, songs, short stories, botanical drawings, recipes, and alphabets. He also composed and published twelve musical settings of Tennyson’s poetry.
Lear was born into a middle-class family at Holloway, North London, the penultimate of twenty-one children (and youngest to survive) of Ann Clark Skerrett and Jeremiah Lear.[3] He was raised by his eldest sister, also named Ann, 21 years his senior. Owing to the family’s limited finances, Lear and his sister were required to leave the family home and live together when he was aged four. Ann doted on Edward and continued to act as a mother for him until her death, when he was almost 50 years of age.[4]
Lear suffered from lifelong health afflictions. From the age of six he suffered frequent grand mal epileptic seizures, and bronchitis, asthma, and during later life, partial blindness. Lear experienced his first seizure at a fair near Highgate with his father. The event scared and embarrassed him. Lear felt lifelong guilt and shame for his epileptic condition. His adult diaries indicate that he always sensed the onset of a seizure in time to remove himself from public view. When Lear was about seven years old he began to show signs of depression, possibly due to the instability of his childhood. He suffered from periods of severe melancholia which he referred to as “the Morbids
Lear’s nonsense works are distinguished by a facility of verbal invention and a poet’s delight in the sounds of words, both real and imaginary
Form is AABBA
(Ad. Ex.)
There was once a girl named Sue
Who feared the word called boo.
She jumped out of her skin
When you said it again
She was crazy; this girl called Sue.
Written by,
Terry Shepherd
Sitting here on Pebble beach
Talking to the waves
“Can you hear my heart
Oh quiet one?
Can you feel my pain”?
Wishing things were different
Knowing I can’t go back
Seeing surface changes
I know it’s not for real.
“You say nothing to me
You only whisper in my ear
I can’t make out the words.”
As I sit here I feel the answer
You penetrated my soul
I must head in the direction
I must stand and I must go.
Written by,
Terry Shepherd
06/11/2016
Poetry is a stutter’s thoughts
A last fight that was fought
Pain; much too deep to speak
A mother’s loss when she can not weep
An artists color of words
A bowl of porridge and some curds
A dream not made yet reality
But visions clear, as clear can be
An introvert’s way to say
What he thinks every single day
A poet is sometimes misunderstood
Seen clearly through his brotherhood.
Written by,
Terry Shepherd
MY MAN, A MILITARY MAN
My man, a military man
Left me and his babes
To do his duty
To fight for freedom
To save our lives.
My man, a military man
Is a proud papa
He loves them so
How his eyes do glow
When they call him by name.
My man, a military man
I pray you stay safe
We miss you so much
Please don’t stay too long
God, bring him home once again.
Written by,
Terry Shepherd
https://magicinthebackyard.wordpress.com/2016/02/01/hello-february/
Today’s write; A cinquain is a non-rhyming five-line poem that focuses on imagery and the natural world. Write a cinquain poem for Valentine’s Day
“See the apples on the tree?
Adam will you pick one for me?”
” Sorry, it’s against the rules
You know what he said.”
” But it’s Valentine’s Day and you love me.”
Written by,
Terry Shepherd
Chaos,
Mixed feelings
Rulers of our world
Kings and queens
People in power
Leaders,
Money speaking
Poor hiding
Rich riding
Chaos,
A world of
Wealth and poverty
Who will seek us out?
Who will set us free?
Who will feel our pain?
When I cry out,
Who will listen?
Oh belly so empty
Who will fill us up
A mat to rest
Our heads upon
May I have a blanket?
Can you spare a dime?
Can you hear my cries?
All I want is freedom
To walk on my own
To make a choice
To feed my family
To cover my cold
Chaos,
Mixed feelings
Who will hear
My cries?
Written by,
Terry Shepherd
A new year today
The old slipping away
Put away the stale
Wipe away the days.
Refresh my memory
What is your name again?
Let’s go and have a drink
Let’s dance and remember when.
Clean sheets upon the bed
Blank shadows scream your name
Just place your imprint baby
Let’s play that familiar game.
Your body feels indifferent
I can still remember him
The old year slipping in
I am remembering once again.
I scream his name in vain
As you raise me up above
The hurt you feel; I see
I swear I’m not in love.
You climb out of my bed
You slip your clothes back on
You shut the door so quiet
Now both have come and gone.
Written by,
Terry Shepherd01/05/2016
Who I am 