Eagleeyez - Watching Over Us

champagne1982

Dangerous Liaison
Joined
Aug 31, 2002
Posts
7,671
I spoke with Angeline about how best to heal some of the rawness left with Terry's (aka ee) sudden passing. When we've lost a companion poet I've always found it helpful to collect our favourite poems written for, with and by our friend, in a memorial post. So, I hope you all will see fit to share your favourite eagleeyez poems right here on this thread.

It will be helpful for Angeline as well. She would like to assemble Terry's writing into a book that she can pass on to his children. Here's a couple of his poetry threads and other writings. I think you could check out nearly everything this man wrote and be sure that you've read something a poet would scribble.

Farewell Terry. You'll be missed -

not sure how many words
a poem from a thread of the same name:
fire on the hemisphere, below

lsiten to me- listen to me
hang your collar up inside
all you fallen heroes
offering the educated
primitive and wild,

fire on the hemisphere
below.

sugar cane and coffee cup
listen to me.

your beautuful more beautiful than me.

sharpening stones
walking on coals
to improve the education
and business acumen

thumb drop e string bass
repetitive- exhuming McCarthy

the number in the monkees...everyone aloud......​
Ive had this idea....and then
Homespun Jazz Thread
 
take the bridge over nothing
turn left on the high road
see how it treats you, then
turn up the non profit radio and
twang me up
a bowl of
the dead language,
a thundercloud
or perhaps the lavender river-
looking good mate
looking good

the devil in your eyes
the headache filter in place
bottleneck sliders call up the
volume for the dancers
and peanutshells
for the century
lay like lily's
in the memory marsh.


glycerine time is a priveledge
earned.
The man had a rhythm that remains a unique signature in nearly all his poem/songs. :rose:
 
Ride the blue car,
under crabapple
suns-
along fiesty American
waters,
levees
perched as
parallel
to the horizon.

Missouri
tobacco
stands
give way to
Navajo billboards and
Virgrinia Mud
rides west-
chasing the
Sun.

Powerlines
and
Jumper cables,

a sky full of
Stars,
puddlejumpers
like sewing machines
cross Arizona
all the way to
Barstow.




..............
 
Mining for riches,
Mountains and Mother lodes,
Silver and gold.
Yet You find only holy water
At the bottom of the well
And Instead
Drink a muddy handful and
Bless thy self for the

Love of children
Can be as a pickax
Burned like a Blister
Peeled off my shoulder-
Barbed wire
Speeding trains
I'd lay down for you both
Hip waders deep
Where time means nothing
The truth steams up thru earthen cracks
And in the melodies of the wilderness,

Holy water
Its Vitamin time.


(Ange will have too many wonderful poems to choose from to add to a book!)
 
shara song
by byeagleyez©


she says shhh

shara sings
neruda whispers
shivering snow
sprinkling starlite
should i turn on my back
show heaving chest
under shimmering soft grey
soul center
rememberings

shhhh

shara sings
one window
lemongrass
coral sand sculptures
of childvoices
grown
over risen tides
luna rope pulls
shores to her
waterline...whispers-


shhhh

shara slumbers
she essential
in the he dreams of all
shared in rivers
rolling seawords
lovesong in motion
they call it blue
this massive ocean.
 
Champ, thank you for starting this thread. I had totally forgotten about those two other threads of T's, so you've done me a great favor: those poems might have been lost otherwise. :kiss::heart:

It's going to take me a while to get this book together but it's a good project for me, a positive way to deal with this crushing blow of his loss. His kids knew he wrote but I don't think they ever read much of Terry's poetry (he was pretty quiet and humble about it), and I know his family and a few close friends haven't seen any of it. I'm sure it will mean as much to them to have it as it will to me to put it together.

Oh and Neo, just :kiss:.
 
Champ, thank you for starting this thread. I had totally forgotten about those two other threads of T's, so you've done me a great favor: those poems might have been lost otherwise. :kiss::heart:

It's going to take me a while to get this book together but it's a good project for me, a positive way to deal with this crushing blow of his loss. His kids knew he wrote but I don't think they ever read much of Terry's poetry (he was pretty quiet and humble about it), and I know his family and a few close friends haven't seen any of it. I'm sure it will mean as much to them to have it as it will to me to put it together.

Oh and Neo, just :kiss:.
I had meant to link to ee's author page in the first post but here in this spot will do. Terry's Poetry. This work deserves to be read, his talent shines on brightly, even though the main light has dimmed to being among the stars.

I also realized, too late, that I've misspelled his user name in my early posts, so if anyone wants to search for anything particular please spell it: e a g l e y e z .
 
all the way to Reno, I 80
pissing in Coors talls
sniffing gasoline
with visions of suggetions
of future New Mexicos and car thievery.

if i wanted to fall down
in Baudelaire Baltimore
electrolite hills
of poison oak Oakland on acid
youthcenter dance
outside in the creekbed,

I would have
ditched the words on the rocks
clipped my head
and asked for my twenty minutes
twenty minutes ago.

Having been on a few epic road trips this here struck a chord I have read it so many times, remembering some errant crazy from my youth.
 
behold the roiling sea,
so many of my fingers floating away
towards vespers of hymns, dark nighted and
blue-blacked, somehow beautifully sad
across horizons that have always
miraged me, while shorebirds hop on one leg
as down comes the blade,
pinkie tossed,
ring finger next-
a sandshark brushes
my leg and I feed him my blood
which he spits into the foam.




from 13 O'clock (dark-er poetry) thread
 
Birthday Song, 2007

The droning Piano rings the dinner bell
And all thru the wood, Crow, Meadowlark, Jays, Sparrows, Kestrels, Junkos, Gulls
Swallows, Blackbirds and Finches circumnavigate the pale sky, drawn to the bellows of the sound.

Tides lap inward on shores, wind eases to a standstill, stars shine ever bright while a green hue rises up from lands otherwise pale.

Memory of things gone are present, clear glimspes of reason and recognition as frozen lakes act as looking glasses into a labyrinth of deeper blues.

Here we sit, gifted by the turning of things, not on just any day, but in the chance and the folly of such meanderings, this day this connection here and now.

And finally our incessant talks of past, present and to come cease to move as under the twisted giant spruce trees, our talks turn to lips brushing ever so gently.

Shoulders mingle, bottoms of feet meet, hair drapes from her head over mine, talks turn to lips brushing ever so gently. Her breasts rustle against my flat chest, her back stands staight and tall, and our talks turn to lips brushing ever so gently.

In centers and middles power engines purr and we mingle, our talks turned to lips brushing ever so gently.

The promise of a life, timeless, long and short in the moment, made of edifice, as constant as smoke dancing, all at ease, all at ease, as our talks turn to lips brushing ever so gently.

Whispers ever so faintly, I love you, dear one, dear heart, as the ocean swells and the flying creatures circle higher and higher, until disappeared behind the black veil where the stars dance in your eyes in a promenade of love, devotion, surrender.
 
From 10 Words or Less, 2008


The Sundown
revealed
Venus seducing
the Moon,
dancing they rise.
 
Not Sure How Many Words. July, 2005

The air is like heroin to me
Veins like rivers,
Over there where the low tides sell the blackest mud,
It falls away occasionally from the shoes of the tree.

My feet are like air to me.
The killer knee and electric seats, barrel laughs and jokes galore,
The last thing was so clear-
The sun is a mailrun
Gladly done along runways and gladiola lights.

The dirt is surely precious to me.
Osterizer fingers spin your strange soil
Waiting as the colors
Push.
 
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