Boyhood Memories of Shopping
Sainsburys – long marble counters with men in crisp white aprons To measure and wrap the tea and butter, To weigh the broken biscuits and Cut the bacon with the...
Author: Terry
It is not with ideas that we write verses … it is with words
Since I’ve been dickering and dabbling with poetry I’ve had quite a lot of ideas for poems, or short stories perhaps. The trouble is that the ideas ...
The Garden of Rest
The long hot days lead me to go and view the garden long unkept, the uncut grass, the bushes grow unpruned, unshaped, where weeds have crept. I sit beside the s...
Turning Points
Moments of motion Changes of direction. Some turning points are obvious, Immediate. But many go unobserved, Disregarded minor deviations, small shifts That accu...
I’m Done (reflections on a dissolute life)
I think I’m done here. I’ve seen the things I wanted to see I’ve done the things I wanted to do. At least, I am reconciled to Not seeing or doing more. I’ve bro...
Players and Masks
All the world’s a stage, said the Stratford Bard And we, my friends, are merely the players Dramatis personae, life’s foot soldiers We write and are written, gi...
Aubade – Mourning
Cold and alone The nights without you are long Dawn, like my heart, breaks.
Lily Briscoe
Lily Briscoe is one of the main characters in Virgina Woolf’s 1927 novel To The Lighthouse. The action takes place at the house on Sky that the Ramsey fa...
Solitary walking (in the lock-down days)
I venture out for my permitted walk. A tentative glance to the left and right. Dog walker to the right, all clear to the left. Decision of direction made, I set...
The days are long and lend themselves to pleasure
The days are long and lend themselves to pleasure, The nights are times to rest and take my ease. The years go by and I enjoy my leisure, A solitary life spent ...