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 »
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Terrance Tracy Poems
It tickles my bones and pickles my tones to hear dogs bark is to hear bogs dark.
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."
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.
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.
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.
New Heavens and a New Earth
O, how I long for meditation in prayer, a quiet place, without the distraction of insinuation of sins that are forgiven by our Lord's redeeming grace. The enemy refuses to abdicate the thoughts planted in our mind to confuse us and leave us behind.
A Still Small Voice
I have heard it said all we learn from history is that we do not learn history, is that because we have forgotten how to listen to that still small voice. A prophet of old preformed mighty deeds in the name of the Lord only to run from an angry queen's threat, I will have your life; for the prophet could not hear that still small voice.
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.
You Are-What You Think You Are
Inspiration arrives in the midst of the minds to expel Verses and lines that are eating the human shell Of the conscience mind, they have lost their Innocence for the want of fame.
O Lord Give Me Strength
O Lord Give Strength Each day is replete with tribulations to endure, can I compete often I am not sure.
It has been a while Since I have pinned A verse to suit my style.
Sounds of winter
Sounds of Winter Saturday, December 21,2013 3: 12 AM
Washed His Feet With Tears
Have you often felt alone and off track, separated from the only one can atone? Eternal fear has whispered into your ear not from above but from below.
Comments about Terrance Tracy
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(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)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
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...