Poems by Brough Terry R

Beauty is Simplicity

a poem by Brough Terry R

High in the tree tops, on a leaf,
a small droplet of water sits.
As the wind blows this droplet drips.
From the tip of the leaf to the
palm of my hand it hits. I now
sit and stare at this simple speck.

Why is it that the most simple
things in life contain such beauty?
Of all the wonders on earth, why
does this droplet create such awe?

To appreciate real beauty we
must stop and look. We must observe
nature in its simplicity.
For that is where true beauty is found.

Dote the Famous

a poem by Brough Terry R

Mr. Movie-star, the man whom every
woman (even my sweetheart) desires. ‘Tis
easy to see why he is so favored,
yet when I see a super-model or
a beautiful actress, I don’t express
my deep longing for them. For there is none,
I don’t say, “The man who gets her is the
luckiest on earth.” I am that lucky.
I have someone who is perfect. When I
see the super-star I only see her
differences. The ways in which she is not
like my darling. Since my treasure has no
blemish, I see the famous and realize
that there is no attraction. For they are
not perfect. I now hold the post perfect
woman in my arms. It is too bad that
she now dreams of Mr. Movie-star, while
the only one I desire is she.
She’s the only one I dream of having.


a poem by Brough Terry R

Dancing, dancing, in the trees- they are dancing.
Twisting and turning, the leaves- they are shifting.
The cool Autumn breeze keeps them shaking and shaking.

Until one day-SNAP-they come falling and falling
Whirling and twirling, to the ground they are falling.
They fall to the ground because gravity’s calling.
The leaves begin falling to the right and to the left.
These many leaves falling causes beauty. It’s deft!
But the trees become saddened. They feel quite bereft.
And the leaves, on the ground they are found,
Looking up to the sky, nothing more to do now

But wait! Here comes a child, she can see all the leaves.
A whole plethora of leaves her eyes don’t believe.
Raking and taking, a pile she’s making.
She plays in the pile for quite a long while
It never gets boring, never losing her smile

Now the child stops. The pile provides shelter
The cold wind blows, but the leaves now protect her.
All warm and snug in the leaves at the bottom.
These are the memories I hold of each Autumn.

Gift of Eternity

a poem by Brough Terry R

Life’s hard, then you die
I pondered this, then gave a sigh
I looked up there into the sky
Then asked my God, just why, oh why
Did he send me here to live and die
Where friends are gone, they’ve passed me by

I then walked home on that cold dark night
And I saw someone sitting under a light
I startled her as I tried to pass by
But all she could do was sit there and cry

I thought I should help her, I sat down by her side
She told me her life had been like a terrible ride
She wished she could jump into a deep hole and hide
Because of the things she was feeling inside
I know how she felt, I had been there before
We had dealt with great pain and been kicked to the floor
There was something about her, I could tell in her face
God had sent her to me, yes that was the case
He gave me a friend that night on the street
Then I realized that she and we didn’t just meet

Could it be true?
Our friendship NOT new?
Then inside, an odd feeling grew
Listen now, I’ll tell what I knew

She and I had been together in our home up above
Two friends bound together by friendship and love
We lived there and then in that home in the sky
But then it came time to say our goodbyes

We were coming to earth to live and to grow
We became so excited, we were ready to go
Then came the fear, would I see her down there?
Is so, may I ask, how? when? and where?
And what’s with the veil to be put o’er our eyes?
If I saw her it’d be like she’d been disguised

I opened my mouth to tell her my fears
But I shut it as I tried to hold back the tears
As she looked at my face she could tell what was wrong
And she knew we’d not be apart for too long

She then took my hand and looked into my eyes
And she said these word I knew to be wise
“I promise you friend, we’ll meet there some day!”
With those beautiful words, my fears went away
We said our goodbyes as we headed to earth
Forgetting our past at the time of our birth

So it was true, we were together again
And side by side, we know we can win

She looked into my eyes, and whispered and said
“I promise, my friend, that when I am dead,
I’ll see you again in Heaven, I’ll be there with you
I’ll live my life well and do what I must do
To continue our friendship to the grave and beyond
And we’ll help each other in this life become strong.”
I now hold in my arms that wonderful gift
I’ll never let go for as long as I live

Declining Optimism

a poem by Brough Terry R

She says I’m declining in optimism-
Making her feel imprisoned.
She asks me what’s wrong.
I’ve been sad for so long.
It’s her
She’s bringing me down
It’s her
Making me frown
It’s her
She’s effecting my optimism
Making me feel imprisoned
I can’t tell her what’s wrong with me
She’s so blind and she can’t see
It’s her
She’s bringing me down
It’s her
Making me frown
It’s her
The way that she looks at me
She just wont let me be
I’m caged, now where’s the key?
Somebody set me free
I’ve fallen into her sea
of pain and misery
I’ve fallen down to my knees
Begging you, won’t you please
Come here and set me free.
It’s her
She’s bringing me down
It’s her
She’s making me frown
It’s her

Give Peace a Chance

a poem by Brough Terry R

One’s rich, the other’s poor.
Is this a reason worth fighting for?
His skin is dark, but mine is light.
Does that give us a reason to fight?
This country is big, but that one’s small.
One just wants it’s share, the other wants it all.
Different religions are Tom and Matt.
Should they be fighting because of that?
A father teaches his son to hate.

Give peace a chance, it’s never too late.

One man tried to create peace between the loving impaired.
He said he’d carve a tunnel of hope through the mountain of despair.
And what ever happened to that peaceful guy?
A bullet was given him. It made him die.

Another man teaches his son,
That only a coward hides behind a gun.
Truer words could never be,
But why can’t the rest of us see?
We should love one another
And not shoot down our brother.

They Apologize for being Wrong

a poem by Brough Terry R

There are times when I weep like a child.
The tears are caused by dread, worry, fear.
I am afraid that what PEOPLE say
may be true. PEOPLE say I am young,
much too young to feel true love. To them
it’s considered infatuation.
Who are they? How can THEY tell me of
what is in my heart? To tell me that
this is child’s love is to tell me that
I am no longer human. These are
things I know without a doubt.
Of my humanity, and my love.
People say that the distance between us
is much too great to overcome. Not so!
I ask you now to take my hand, and we
will break through these barriers. We shall walk
together to show these people that our
love is as strong as any other love.
Now what do THEY say? They must say
that they underestimated true love.
For true love is exactly what we have.
True love never fades, but it grows stronger.
They will watch their barriers crash down and
watch our love grow. Grow to new heights.

What Happened?

a poem by Brough Terry R

The old abandoned house in the country
sits, decaying, wasting away. I drove
by on a beautiful sun-shiny day.
I decided to stop and go inside.
The front door was open and I crept up
the stairs. A room on the left caught my eye.

I could tell that this was a small girl’s room.
Flowered wall paper and furniture. The
room had the feeling of an open field.
By the window, in the corner were dolls.
In the closet were dresses, filled with bright
colors. How happy the girl must have been!

Don’t be so sure. On her bed, under the
pillow lay a folder. She was quite an
artist. This folder was filled with drawings,
images of horror. Why, in such a
colorful room were these images made?
What made this girl think of carnage and death?


a poem by Brough Terry R

The tin man falls into a pool.
There is no drain, he feels no pain.
The flying goat wipes the cloud off his pillow.
There is no hope, his life’s a joke.
The softest teddy bear becomes a block of ice.
No one to cuddle, now there’s a puddle.
And the troublesome dog I once called mine,
is in denial, and fakes a smile.
The troll on the bike can’t see where he goes.
There’s a brick wall, he begins to fall.
The skeleton is thrown into the fire.
Help he calls for, but fuel-they get more.
The leaf in the tree, the sand in the sea,
their lives begin to fade, identities they want to trade.
Sitting here just want to be free,
but there’s always someone watching me.
We look in the mirror and hope it gets clearer,
but we’re all the same, we live in shame.