Terry's Poetry

I hope

you enjoy
my poems!

1. Santorini 
    (for Jason, 1986)
2.  Morning 
    (1985)
3.  Rare Winters When 
    (1992)
4.  What's Wrong With Dying 
    Published, Poetry Today
    (1990)
5. My Yesterday, My Today 
    (2022)
6. After the Rain
    (2024)
7. Mom's Gifts
    (for Mom, 2023)
8. Autumn 
    (1984)
9. Bagels & Biscuits 
    (1982)
     Published Choral Lyrics, 1990
10. Wisdom Comes... 
      (2017)
11. Ode to Fox & Friends 
      (2017)
12. an inevitable deficiency syndrome
      Published, Southwestern Magazine
      (1985)
13. My Adonais 
      (for Jason, 2005)
      Paying homage to Percy Shelley
14. Psalm of Remembrance 
      (1990)
      Published Hymn Lyrics
15. Thank You For This Time
      (1992)
      Dedicated to Crosby Brethren Church
____________

1.  
for Jason 
"Santorini"

Citypictures.net

If black could be the color of
powdered sand and glistening
glass

see how I would lift the gift of
sea in hand and, sifting,
pass

to islands in the Aegean Sea
where I once swam; and dreaming,
wait.

For gods who touched this loved
land do come to call in gentle
gait  

and take me back to memories made
of deep blue seas and white-washed
walls

Wrapped all 'round cliffs who shade
and cling to him who surely
calls.

for Jason 
"Santorini"
© Copyright 1986. 
Contact the author 
for publication permission.

____________

2.

"Morning"

Morning dew
prevents my view
while peering through
my window pane

Sun shines through
a droplets lane
and finding you
finds rest there too

on golden hair
it dances there
without care
and you smile

now fears resign
as all the while
in silent sign
your hand grasps mine...

"Morning"
© Copyright 1985.  Contact the author for publication permission.

_______________________________________

3.

"Rare Winters When"

Dear brother
Remember those rare winters when
snow actually fell
before the great tree hunt and
small quail scurried
soft as a whisper
across white pastures
we called our backyard?

We would wake
speechless,
still
too stunned
by this silence seldom seen
through country lace and glass.

“Snow!” “Snow!” we both screamed.

Like a great blanket draping the barnyard,
reshaping all that was familiar,
cleansing, refreshing
the slate that held our memories
still -
wiping all that hurt away.

Our show lambs roamed in curious quest
along their new precarious stage,
fading in and out of view
in matching white season coats,
"Look at us, look at us,
now we're light, now we're dark,
now you see us, now you don't...
still,
you’ll never see us slip for heaven’s sake!”

"If only...," he'd snipe,
"you always slip," he'd gripe.

Still...
if only silence such as this could last
and fowl found reason not to crow
and he who shunned the sun stayed sleeping
still
and found reason not to show, or even wake!

We would leap,
bundled by mom,
from the old back porch
as the screen door banged
to the beat of our boots
making our way across the field -
finally reaching the only green growing
still
in that miraculously pure, white-washed world.

We needed no preacher to point from the pulpit
to bring this lesson home -
the green Cedar standing
like the signpost it was
in that bitter cold and lifeless world
desperately reaching up to the All-knowing...
still,
we knew what it was, an unspoken word.

An unspoken word gifted upon the canvas
warming our hearts,
stilling the chill,
if only for a time
before the call we knew would come
to return inside our small San Gabriel home
hesitating, hoping hope could come in too...
instead,
dawn had come for him, it always would.

"If only...," he'd snipe,
"you always bang," he'd gripe.

Still,
sometimes later I'd recall
those rare winters when
there’d actually be snow
before the great tree hunt
and you were by my side

Still later would I find peace
in looking back at these
fond memories of those times
and find that remedy
for that which plaques my mind

Still, brother,
how was it then
such peace you always seemed to know?

"Rare Winters When"
© Copyright 1992. 
Contact the author for publication permission
___________________________

4.

"what's wrong with dying"



today
...while others are afraid of 
crying

i am afraid of 
laughing

i see the people 
fighting
the children 
starving
the babies 
dying

lets stop the 
lying

there's no room for smiling
or any hopeless sighing

let's do 
more than 
praying

for

tomorrow
...while others are afraid of 
dying

i am afraid of 
living.

"what's wrong with dying"
© Copyright 1990.
Published, Poetry Today: Fall Supplement 1990.
Contact the author for publication permission.
_______________
5.

"My Yesterday, My Today"   

Cottonhead was my tag as a tiny tot
But o'er the years it sure has morphed a lot
From dirty to platinum blond, and then --
Who'd of thunk it - white again!

My eyes still look especially blue
When wearing shirts of cauliflower hue.
Periwinkle picks up their pixels as well
As do azure, indigo, teal and kale.

But too many lines have now come 'round --
Sun? Tears? Or just my mileage all around?
Indeed this mug has got around, it's said,
The things I did would turn most sailors red.

This new chapter's been a welcome kind:
Centering on healthier norms, a clearer mind;
Visiting with family, friends, and neighbors
While enjoying the fruits of all my labors.

But mostly I like solitude.
Though I fear it comes off rude.
I simply prefer lounging nude
When reading works with verisimilitude --

Historical fiction mostly but some mysteries too
And every now and then a historical overview.
I binge on BritBox, PBS, and Sci-Fi flix -
And catch The Wheel each night at half past six.

I love my yard and all my plants,
Sustaining life despite our circumstance:
The heat and drought get worse each year
So succulents seem the way I'll steer!

My strength grows weaker as dusk draws nearer
So I'm doling out wisdom to you, patient hearer:

"Ride 'em hard and get it while there's gettin' to be git
Just know when it's time to hang up ye saddle and kit."












"My Yesterday, My Today"
© Copyright 2022. 
Contact the author 
for publication permission.

____________

6.

"After the Rain"

Prší! Prší!
said my babička in Czech
It’s raining, raining! 
What the heck!

Here's what I love so much after the rain:
Watching fog and mist rise gently off the plain,

Counting tiny mystery mounds
Popping up on all my muddy grounds,

Birds deciding it's safe again to fly, 
Long-absent Sun breaking through the sky,

and little puddles scattered here and there
all lighting up in its bright glare.

Hush now! in this mist and fog,
Can you hear that ol’ bullfrog?

Wet and happy he leaps high
hopping, skipping on to bye and bye…

Lord, let not the rain be so rare and lean
I love the way it makes things all so clean.

This drought’s gone on quite long enough
It’s hard to plant in ground that’s tough.

Prší! Prší!
said my babička in Czech
It’s raining, raining…
bring it back!

"After the rain"
© Copyright 2024.
for publication permission.
_____________________

7. 

"Mom's Gifts"

Kitchen Counters

Lined with Jars
Lifted from Steam
by Towel-Wrapped Hands
from Hot Pressure Pots
always busy on your stove.
How I loved to hear the
pop, pop, popping
of their sealing lids.

Your canning
kept us all so well.

Den Floor Rugs

Lined with Tots
Dropped off each Morn
By Racing Moms from
Nearby Homes fully
Trusting in your Love.
How I loved to hear the
caw, caw, cackling
of those crazy kids.

You loved them
all so very well.

Sidewalk Beds

Lined with Pots
Planted with Pride
Prettied up our Home with
Hues of every shade and the
Cuttings you would share.
How I loved to find the
bud, bud, budding
you gifted us each Spring.

Your labors
kept that yard so well.

Nursing Home Wards

Lined with Rooms
Closed off from the World
Still Racing on Outside.
It's here I find you now each week
longing for you to speak – Oh, Mom,
I want to hear you tell again your
sweet, sweet tales
of faith and hope and family.

Your stories 
warmed my heart so well.

"Mom's Gifts"
© Copyright 2023. 
Contact the author for publication permission.

[Image source] 
and earth shed a tear
beasts fled for shelter
birds flew in fear

trees disguised themselves
and cried upon the ground
wind picked up and
turning 'round
voiced a loud and mournful sound

"Autumn"
© Copyright 1984. 
Contact the author
for publication permission.

___________________________________________


Music: Dr. Ted Lucas;
Lyrics: Terry W. Loessin

9.

PUBLISHED CHORAL PIECE 
FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION:

 "Bagels and Biscuits" 

In 1986 a poem I wrote for a Southwestern Univ classmate, 
Bagels and Biscuits, 
was set to music by an S.U. professor and accomplished composer, Dr. Ted Lucas.
I am pleased the piece continues to be
performed all over the country.

See,
(and find other groups performing it on YouTube)

"If you seek a fun novelty piece that will entertain your audience 
and delight your singers, 
Bagels and Biscuits is it!"
  
"A great encore or opener selection for your choral concert!"

______________________________________________

10.

"Wisdom Comes To He Who Waits"

Hear how the Pessimist stirs,
"What is the point of it all?"
To which God responds in Time
But the Devil offers Whispers.


"Wisdom Comes To He Who Waits"
© Copyright 2017. 
Contact the author 
for publication permission.
_________________________

11.

"Ode to FOX & Friends"

With
Power-Playing Politicians
A
Daily Drama Unfolds
For
Carefully Coiffed Commentators --

Those
Thought-Less Talking Heads
On
Money-Making Media
And
Rabble-Rousing Radio --

Who
Pre-Package Talking Points
For
Fury-Baiting Far-Righters
With
God and Guns in Hip-Holsters

They
Politely Praise Their Populist
And
Consistently Evade the Evidence
While
Declarin' "Damn Good Show!"

"Ode to FOX & Friends"
© Copyright 2017. 
Contact the author 
for publication permission.

____________

12.

an inevitable deficiency syndrome

attentive angels
in the balcony sit
observing a stage
that was dimly lit

when the time was right
they returned the light

now particles of dust
reflecting white
sparkle in smoke
swimming in the light

the angel of Death
takes to the stage
disguised to all
in the latest rage

then without reason
Death raised his hand
without warning
he struck up the band

no one could see
as they looked around
from whence it came
this eerie sound

coming from nowhere
it filled the hall
reaching not one
but soon reaching all

there sat men with men
in the front row
simply by chance
enjoying the show

they panicked, they cried
they fell in shame
but the men in front
were not to blame

for the time was right
for this failing play
to end one night
the director's way...

an inevitable deficiency syndrome
© Copyright 1985.
Published, Southwestern Magazine: Fall 1985. 
Contact the author 
for publication permission.
_________

13.

"My Adonais"
(paying homage to Percy Shelley
and dedicated to Jason)


"I am certain of nothing
but of the holiness
of the heart's affections."

~ Keats


What haunting memories are these
that seem
have deemed
to never free my soul?

Of Greece --

of Santorini, Mykonos, and Partho;
of ouzo, "Parakalo!" [1]
of vino, "Efheristo!"  [2]
of beer -- "Oy, so-o-o much be-e-e-er!"

(as another plate bites the dust) "Opa!"   [3]

what joyous memories are these
of
me and you.
[1] "Please!"
[2] "Thank you!"
[3] "Cheers!"
Jason & I hamming it up for the girls.
SU Summer Study Abroad, Greece 1985.

He and i,
living too well --
a couple of sun-bronzed gods lazing on Aegean shores,
sharing views both deep and blue
while nursing hangovers from hell;
dreaming of rich, future tides that had not yet rolled in
while planning our more shallow quests and
somewhat more immediate sin.

Return with me again, 
my "Trouble!"
"Great Tempter!"
trusted friend...

my Adonais.


Jason, Carolyn, Cindy, and I
picnicking on our private isle
a mile off the coast of Poros, 1985.

from "Adonais"
"An Elegy on the Death of..."

and thus our favorite poet would begin
and, in a Preface, bit of Plato he'd throw in:


Ήσουν το αστέρι του πρωινού ανάμεσα στους ζωντανούς. Τώρα, έχοντας πεθάνει, είναι σαν ο Έσπερος, να δίνεις νέα  λαμπρότητα στους νεκρούς.


("Thy were the morning star among the living,
Ere thy fair light has fled;
Now, having died, thou art as Hesperus,
Giving new splendour to the dead.")  [4]

[4] This is Shelley's own translation of "Epigram on Aster" by Plato; Aster (Star) was a young man whom Plato once loved. Hesperus is the evening star; it and the 'morning star' are classical references to Venus.


Jason and I would become obsessed with
our dissection of Shelley's moving tribute
to his beloved Keats.

"I weep for Adonais -- for he is dead!
Oh weep for Adonais, though our tears
Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head.

And thou, sad Season, selected from all years
To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure peers,
And teach them thine own sorrow! Say: 'With me
Died Adonais! ...'"

Please, pause. 
No longer can I read these words -
our once so-moving lines -
uninterrupted

as you once did
beneath the shade of bright pink blossoms perched on vines
of crawling, falling bougainvillea on Santorini's cliffs.
Once familiar, flowing lines,
predictable, patterned riffs
your death
has now corrupted.

(Sigh)  Okay, now you may rewind:

Say: 'With me
Died Adonais!  Till the Future dares
Forget the Past, his fate shall always be
An Echo and a Light unto eternity!'"

Nay, I say: With me LIVES Adonais!
And, our treasured past
I can not, I should not -- hear me now,
I have willed myself to ne'er forget!

Leave behind?
Like so many other scenes from life
eagerly, deliberately discarded
or carelessly, callously cast aside - listen,
No, not ever!

It Echoes, still, in the theater of the mind --
the Light breaks through the gathered, dark assembly there

and images of you start slowly to appear
ghostly, then clear ...
Yes, I say: With me LIVES Adonais!

Leave this past behind?
No, not ever.

Not this oft-repeating reel
whose images capture you and stir me still,
whose frames force me to --
yes, feel (mock me, I don't care)
I replay it again and again, time after time
to feel you, taste you, smell you, yearn for you again
(is that a crime) and,
sometimes pausing
on this or that sweet frame where
you are still there, 
I find myself
sometimes asking,

What haunting memories are these
that seem
have deemed 
to never free my soul?

Such silly, sentimental scenes:
of horseback rides along the banks of winding country creeks;
of evening walks and lurid talks 'round old town squares;
of summer reads and poolside stares;
of weekend trips to discoteques;
of gay soirees, and -- 
well, yes, 
Rocky Horror Picture Show...
you as Frankie ("I'm just a sweet Trans-ves--")
and I as Rocky ("I'm a, I'm a lookin' for --")
looking for...

my Adonais.

What a drama queen I was
in the days that followed your demise
replaying Frankie's final scene
infinitum
remembering you in that same guise
intoning
"I'm going home..."   [5]

 [5] quoted here were three song titles sung by Frankie in the cult classic "Rocky Horror Picture Show" - including, from the film's closing scene, the melancholy number "I'm Going Home." Only once did Jason dress up as Frankie - for a Halloween costume party. Unlike myself who did a weekly stint as Rocky.

Leave this past behind?
No, not ever.
Now, kindly hit Rewind!

Here, I say: Rewind!

"Here Pause! These graves are all too young as yet
To have outgrown the sorrow which consigned
Its charge to each; and, if the seal is set
Here on one fountain of a mourning mind,
Break it not thou! for too surely shalt thou find..."

Find? But what's to find?
I have in mind the thing you think I'll find:
a buried past,
long decayed ...
ashes to ashes ...

dust.

No, it is you who should Here Pause!
Here, 
pause beside the grave of he who died too young,
of he who donned the robe of summa cum laude
and took the Hippocratic oath;
of he who raised a toast to his best friend
who took a sacred vow as well -- "Before your Gau-u-ude
Al-might-y!" he would tease -- 
a calling that I knew he'd loathe
but, nonetheless, supported till the end.   [6]

[6] In 1990, after receiving my M.Div., I did indeed take my Ordination vows in the Church. In that same year, Jason would graduate from Baylor Medical School. I attended, of course, and witnessed him taking the Hippocratic Oath. He then became the psychiatrist that he always envisioned. The path I chose was, in his view, a mistake.

Go ahead, break the seal you claim is set,
Break it now! Let me tell you what you'll find:
a buried note, one quickly wrote,
and tucked inside his sleeve. [7] 
very, very private words -- yes, words I finally wrote,
but never spoke...
'cept on that day
(long delayed)
quietly prayed
of love, of loss, of ...

lust.

[7] Included in my note was a final stanza from Shelley's "Adonais."

Why could I not say the words before
as you had asked me to
so many times?
If I had said them,
would things have turned out differently?

Or, was this bitter wind  [8]
that blew our world apart
our fate?
Too late --
no god to intervene,
no execution stayed ...
ashes to ashes

to dust we shall return.

Returning now:

"Break it not thou!  so surely shalt thou find
Thine own well full, if thou returnest home,
Of tears and gall.  From this plague's bitter wind   [8]
Seek shelter in the shadow of the tomb.
What Adonais is -- why fear we to become?"

[8] Shelley's "bitter wind" alludes to Byron's death of consumption. I am of course alluding to Jason's death from AIDS. 

Be fair, my fearless one, we all feared becoming that ...
(Sigh) 
It was the scourge of our age, you know, and ...
(which is worse I do not know) 
I was made to live through that!
Visiting the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt,
National Mall, Washington DC, 1996.


How many of our kind
would pass before that night was through
in their lonely solitude?
while families wrestled with their waning fortitude --
and shame!

I wrestled too -- and you knew,
looking me straight in the eye, claiming none's to blame,
yet knowing still my heart --
and guilt!
"I know your thoughts."
"Do you?" I asked, not surprised.
"Oh yes," you sighed, "there but for the grace of God go I."
and then your final, bitter words:

"Go. Go and be that good, annointed one...

What a lucky hypocrite you've been!"

Be fair, my fearless one,

"Fair?  You dare speak to me about what's fair?!"

Has not my pledge thus far proved true?
When all have fled, I said, and gone their way --

(Damn you, you angry son-of-a--
will you let me have my say?!)

When all have fled and gone their way
this one -- I'm telling you --
this one
remains.

"The one remains, the many change and pass;
Heaven's light forever shines, earth's shadows fly ..."

Oh how indeed we feared it.
And many did pass. And those who did remain,
were forever changed. Yet, hear me now:
Not all has changed.
Each time I visit you and kneel upon that ground, 
a setting, evening sun against my aging back
casting long shadows across your granite stone, I whisper:
"I'm still here. 
That hasn't changed. 
And you're right here with me."

Your favorite stanza always answers me:

"The one remains, the many change and pass;
Heaven's light forever shines, earth's shadows fly.
Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,
Stains the white radiance of eternity,
Until death tramples it to fragments.  -- Die,
If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek!   [9]
Follow where all is fled!  Athen's azure sky,
Flowers, ruins, statues, music, words, all are weak
The glory they transfuse with fitting truth to speak."

 [9] So disdainful is Shelley of a world where "we decay / Like corpses in a charnel," that his work "Adonais" clearly strains the traditional obligation of an elegy which is supposed to reconcile mourners to their loss and comfort them. Instead, here in these lines, he seems to recommend escape to the world beyond. Also worth noting, in an elegiac tribute to his friend and former bandmate (Brian Jones) at a huge concert in London, Mick Jagger read these lines from "Adonais" in a tone of celebration.

I no longer fear, my fearless one,
in  truth, I long to join you now --
to find you there with arms out wide,
an embrace, a kiss, a long and soothing sigh.
and then,
along the Santorini cliffs again
together we will run
toward that grand, illustrious strand of seashells, sand, and sun
where we once lived, yes, fully lived,
in that frame, in that moment, on that beach --
one endless and eternal
in its length, and in its tide.

and, walking hand-in-hand with you
along that sweet and blissful shore,
I'll open wide my tear-filled eyes
while lifting up this age-ed head
--now renewed--
from its long-too-sad and downcast guise
and I'll proclaim
as Percy did:

"I have been borne darkly, fearfully, afar!
Whilst, burning through the inmost veil of Heaven,
The soul of Adonais, like a star,
Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are ...."

How many times, my cherished friend,
did you gaze upon these lines
I pressed against your heart
when saying my goodbye?

How many times?
Jason & I; Mykonos 1985.

Well, no more.









I've held you in my heart
for just as long --
cherishing our past
and ever-present signs.
Now, thanks to your bright star,
I'm home,
my Adonais,
I'm coming home 
at last.

 "My Adonais"

(paying homage to Percy Shelley
and dedicated to Jason)

© Copyright 2005. 
Contact the author for publication permission.

Excerpts from Shelley's Adonais and background information regarding the poem and its author were found in The Longman Anthology of British Literature: Volume 2A - The Romantics and Their Contemporaries, 2nd ed.; Addison-Wesley Educational Publishers Inc., 2003.

_____________

14.

The following hymn I wrote for the church choir on
Global Missions Sunday, 1990. 
My family background being Czech
should provide explanation for the mention of
Sts. Cyril and Methodius.

Pope John Paul II wrote that one of the greatest events
in the history of evangelization was certainly the
9th century mission of the two brothers from Thessalonica,
Saint Cyril and Saint Methodius, to the Slavs.

They introduced the Gospel and at the same time
laid the foundations of Slavic culture, including the Cyrillic alphabet.
The late pope noted that both were active in the struggle to
maintain the unity of the Eastern and Western Church,
even though this unity had already begun to crumble.

To the brothers who brought the gospel's hopeful message
to my ancestors, I dedicate this poem.

"Psalm of Remembrance"   
[Recommended tune: Netherland's Melody]


On this day of remembrance this psalm let us offer
for the workers before who have found their reward
Who with courage and confidence led the mighty mission
to spread the word of God and Good News of our Lord.

To the land of our parents came two faithful brothers 
uniting all people in Christ Jesus name
Like Peter and Paul who first led the mighty mission
Saints Cyril and Methodius worked for the same.

Eastern Orthodox missionaries Cyril & Methodius
converting the Slavic people, 10th c.

Sing praise then for all who have fought and have struggled,
have journeyed and labored in far away lands
From the shores of this nation when early it was founded
to the people of West Indies and Africa's sands.

The chore is not ended as Christians all over
united in efforts and longing for peace
Join hands to fight poverty and bring liberation
who live where freedom's rare and hearts yearn for God's Peace.


"Psalm of Remembrance"   
[Recommended tune: Netherland's Melody]
© Copyright 1990. 
Contact the author for publication permission.

_______________

15.

After receiving my post-graduate degree from Austin Seminary followed by my ordination I served in parish ministry.  Those parishes were Crosby, Granger, and the Austin Brethren churches.  The Granger parish is my family's home parish, my maternal family were founding members of that faith community even prior to the construction of the first church in 1901.  

Crosby was the parish that issued me a call to serve immediately after my ordination.  After deciding to leave parish ministry and pursue certification courses in History and Curriculum & Instruction at Texas State University, I relocated to Austin where I would assist that parish in its inevitable dissolution.  Leaving parish ministry in order to pursue my interest in History and classroom instruction had long been on my mind. Nevertheless, departing Crosby was a difficult decision.  I had made many close friends there but, as well, there was faction much displeased with my sexual orientation -- so, that settled the matter.   
With Crosby Brethren Church office secretary,
Pam Marek, and music director,
Joyce Koslovsky

For my final service I composed this song that was sung by my good friend and choir's lead soprano: Grace Anne McKay.

Sometimes
it's hard for me to say
just what I want to say
and in those times I must
write my words

I long
to tell you what I can
and I hope you'll understand
why I will always
remember you

These years, you've brought me
these years, you've taught me
these years, you've shown me
what love's about.

And now
another step to take,
another choice to make
I hope you understand
so far

I trust
God has a plan for us
and when I find that place
He's chosen just for me
I'll understand

Each step
we take along the way
gives something in return
but our eyes can only see
so far

So far, you've brought me
so far, you've helped me
so far, you've shown me
what love's about

And now,
another step to take,
another choice to make,
I hope you understand
so far

And now,
another step begins
I hope we'll meet again
and when it comes we'll know then
what it's all been about

And I know
that in time
God sent you to me
if only for awhile...
thank God for this time.

"Thank you for this time"
[Dedicated to Crosby Brethren Church]

© Copyright 1992. 
Contact the author for publication permission.


______________________________

Terry’s “Good Living” Guide:

Body:
Avoid the 3 PsBsSs
Processed Foods, Phthalates, Plastics;
Beef, Butter, Breads;
Sedentary activities, Sugars, Salt.
Trust me,
you’ll be feeling better in no time!

Mind & Spirit:
Avoid the 3 F’s
Manufactured in these mediums are
misinformation, fear, anger and hate!

JOIN ME IN ENSURING AN EDUCATED CITIZENRY!

JOIN ME IN ENSURING AN EDUCATED CITIZENRY!

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