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With
great sadness I must inform you that Poet Terry passed away, after a
long and painful illness, on Sunday November 30, 2003. He is now at
peace, the suffering and pain have gone, and I hope he is in a place of
hope and contentment, where he may continue with his love of writing
poetry. Poet Terry's webmaster. We are an Amazon Affiliate this
site contains affiliate links for which we may be compensated.
The
Road Sweeper
He sweeps the
streets around the town,
And in the village too,
He really is a busy man,
With lots and lots to do.
Early in the
morning,
He trundles on his way,
He never stops for very long,
For there is much to do each day.
He takes much
pride in his work,
He loves to do it well,
And every one speaks of him,
That is why you can tell.
People round
and about,
Always have the pleasure,
To know this man who sweeps the streets,
For he is the local treasure.
With folk such
as this,
That clean and sweep,
Keep the towns folk happy,
And they no need to weep.
He really is
their savior,
The town is kept so clean,
There is no other like him,
There is no one else as keen.
So give rise to
thanks,
For this gentleman,
Who looks out for us,
As no other can.
A Pratt For
The Making
Everywhere in life there seems to be a Pratt.
They lurk in every corner, even underneath the mat.
They form special opinions as to what life is all about
Then they find out to their dismay that they haven't any clout.
They could never organize their own lives, so it seems
They do not know reality, they only know of dreams.
Yet they do become nightmares for they appear to lose the plot
And find when people are upset then friends they have not got.
But being a Pratt all of their life is the only life they know,
And wonder why people hate them, yes they should really like to know.
Yet if they were not as ignorant and learnt to understand,
That people only like nice people, right to the very end.
Can You?
Can you smile when things go wrong?
Can you always get along?
Can you cry if you need?
Can a cut always bleed?
Can you find a rainbow when it has rained?
Can you find some life once it has drained?
Can you live a life without woe?
Can you? Well I don't think so.
Can you worry all day long?
Can you ever, if it is wrong?
Can you atone for your sin?
Can you possibly be my twin?
Can you die with dignity?
Can you keep your virginity?
Can you sleep well at night?
Can you? Then you have life right.
What A
Thought
Here in lies a
thought,
What if that which you are doing counts for naught,
Are you doing what you ought.
Or ought you be doing naught,
In case that is what you thought.
So is ought the thought that is naught.
If that's what
you think
Don’t kick up a stink,
And don’t even blink
For you might just get caught,
When you really do naught.
Forty
Don’t be
good, be naughty.
Now you have reached the ripe old age.
They say life begins at Forty.
Happy Fortieth.
Lost Hearing
Aid
These
things were put away,
To be ready for another day,
In a safe place they were hid,
Not safe at all, who do I kid?
Such a wondrous thing a hearing aid,
But not when they are in the shade,
I must remember to put them on show,
So I will know where to go.
And find them where they were put,
Yet everything I put away,
I need to remember where each day,
But alas I never do.
I need to get another pair,
Then I would hear them anywhere,
And then they would not be lost,
And all would not be extra cost.
The Dance
An Elephant and a Flea went to a dance,
Though people gave them a second glance,
Most unusual thing to see these two at a jamboree,
And as they danced the night away, people were heard to say,
Funny thing this elephant and flea,
To end up at a jamboree,
But what fine dancers they really are,
They are the very best by far.
Here in lives this little tale,
About the flea and his gal,
Always at each others side,
For now she is his blushing bride.
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