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... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Terrance Tracy Poems
It tickles my bones and pickles my tones to hear dogs bark is to hear bogs dark.
To What End
'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.
Priorities in the Light
Where has our priorities gone awry? To what end will they display? How far is far it matters not to those out of the light. Wasted years secretly hidden in tears rooted out by eternity fear.
The Journey of a Lost Soul
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.
The Open Door
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.
Sounds of winter
Sounds of Winter Saturday, December 21,2013 3: 12 AM
Free Form Poetry
In this world vitriol and hate a little levity I hope someone would appreciate
The Slippery Slope
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."
A voyage in Time
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.
The Glare of the Sun
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.
It has been a while Since I have pinned A verse to suit my style.
Where is My House
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.
A House Divided
'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.
My Epitaph No longer shall this forum this read my best Entombed in a sarcophagus held close
Comments about Terrance Tracy
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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...