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Category Archives: poetry

Ain’t too Proud to Beg Book Blog Tour STOP FIVE

A grateful thank you to Jeniann Bowers for hosting me today.

http://thecatchall72.blogspot.com/2014/06/introducing-terri-klaes-harper-blog.html

Throw Back Thursday: I’m Feeling More than I Can Write

I believe this poem was written not long after I first left home to go to school.

chiro-gil.deviantart.com

chiro-gil.deviantart.com

I’m Feeling More than I Can Write
 
Nothing…
Is that what I feel?
I don’t know.
Maybe I’m scared.
Maybe I’m lonely.
I miss my old life some,
yet begin to love the new one.
But it’s not getting back to normal
the way I thought it would.
Everything has changed for me,
and nothing can I predict.
I’m moving on.
I’m changing…
being changed by my surroundings.
I’m getting tossed along,
doing what I’m forced to do.
I used to feel in control;
I chose what shaped my life.
I now welcome the unexpected,
though it scares me.
No one is here to guide me,
to show me my mistakes.
But I know I’ll make it through
this test of independence.
I am strong,
but I’m still afraid.
Each choice I now make
determines bits of my future.
Much like a puzzle,
the pieces are there.
But without the final picture,
I’m only guessing where they go.
 

Terree L. Klaes 1997

Throw Back Thursday: Bare Feet

It’s spring, which means here in Florida, it’s pretty much summer from now until October. In honor of the season and because I am fortunate enough to live within a few miles of the ocean, I offer a happy, sunny poem I wrote back in 1996.

dreamsresortsblog.com

dreamsresortsblog.com

Bare Feet

Bare feet in the sand,

with children running hand-in-hand.

Laughs and silly giggles.

Oh, how that foam does tickle!

And the scent of the salt air,

clings softly to sun-bleached hair.

There are castles made of sand;

so proudly they stand,

in the glory of the sun…

the soothing warmth of the sun.

Terree L. Klaes 1996

Throw Back Thursday: Sinister Eyes

A Throw Back Thursday poem from 1994, when I believe I was a high school junior.  I once attempted to translate this into Spanish for a class assignment, but I cannot find that and it was probably all wrong anyway.

Retrieved from   the-indu-drawer.deviantart.com

Retrieved from the-indu-drawer.deviantart.com

Sinister Eyes

There once was a man

with sinister eyes

that could pierce your body through

 

He lived in the darkness

in his own little world,

but longed for something more

 

There came a day

when this sinister man

knew Death was at his door

 

He tried to fight back,

but could not succeed,

then collapsed from an awful disease

 

Now his sinister eyes

are tightly shut,

his arms folded over his chest.

 

It is hard to believe

such a misfortunate man

could have such a tranquil rest.

 

Terree L. Klaes copyright 1994

Throw Back Thursday: Broken

I’ve been enjoying the embarrassing old pictures people are posting on Instagram and Facebook every Thursday, and I’ve even participated a bit.  Then I thought, “What’s more embarrassing than old big hair pictures of myself?  Stuff I wrote back in the day. So, in that vein I believe I will begin Throw Back Thursdays on my blog every few weeks.

Broken

It used to be a tool,

and every beat was good.

So many beats for you.

I always thought it would last,

and beat a billion more

strong beats for you.

Now it is broken up.

My heart no longer pounds

any beats at all.

It is broken and destroyed,

shattered and crushed,

and no more beats are left.

I wish it could beat again,

but it’s too broken to care,

and too hurt to even try.

Why must it all end?

This broken tool is dead.

It will never beat again.

Copyright 1995

Tears from Heaven

I felt like maybe I cheated poetry week a bit since I skipped Wednesday, so I now post one more poem. This one is short, but it was my first ever poem.  I can actually remember writing it in my mind while sitting in a car traveling through one of Virginia’s beautiful thunderstorms. I was in 9th grade.

I often thought I’d add more to it, but I was afraid I’d mess it up.  Since it’s my first, it’s a bit sentimental for me.

tempest

Tears from Heaven

Sound of thunder filled my ears

The dark sky with lightening spears

Through my fear no scream would slip

I would keep it deep within

Hold my breath to release no tears

I would keep them through the years

Terree L. Klaes

1992

copyright

Steps

Ah, to capture the confusion of the content feeling when you find yourself relationship-less, and someone comes along wanting you to give that up and risk another… and I threw in a little rhyme scheme.

Steps

How is it that I feel this way,

(so unrelentingly insane)?

When I have all that I should want?

Or do I use it just to flaunt?

I have never meant to hurt a soul.

This has never been my role.

But please don’t move my heart too fast.

I have not yet gotten over the last.

Oh, what is it that I do so crave,

That makes me wonder quite this way?

He still lingers in my mind,

But I wish to leave him far behind.

This is too much for me right now,

And thinking about it gets me down.

But what else am I to so?

He took my heart, and here’s the proof:

I still think of him all the time,

Although this I will always deny.

But even if he realized his mistake,

I could not trust him after this heartbreak.

My pride will take a long time to mend,

But I will never again let my heart bend.

I don’t want to drag you along,

And put you in a spot where you don’t belong.

I just don’t know what it is I want.

I know I think about it a lot.

I guess I’ll just take one step at a time.

Small steps are usually the best kind.

–Terree L. Klaes – –

1995

copyright

Happy Hippie Poem

I made some sort of suggestion on my blog the other day that I’d look for something a bit more cheerful since I declared this poetry week and posted a couple dark poems in a row.  I don’t know what I was thinking when I said that.  Apparently I had forgotten that in my poetry writing days, I wasn’t a very cheerful person.  Well, that’s not completely true either.  I just needed poetry writing therapy more when I was sad.

Oh, but I found one.  If I remember correctly, I wrote this one almost mockingly because a few of my family members told me all I ever wrote was depressing.  That means this is pretty cheesy, but I’m posting it because I am a woman of my word.  Please don’t hold the poem against me, and come back again.

make love not war

Hippie Poem

World peace starts here

within your heart and mind

Each individual person

can change a life

Put down your verbal weapons

and physical ones too

Give someone a hug

and a great big smile

Plant a tree outside

within the world’s back yard

Show how you care

and the love that you possess

Don’t pick a flower

but let it grow forever

Stretch out your arms

and express your love

-Terree L. Klaes-

1994

copyright

Ok, it isn’t that bad.  I have read worse.  I may have even written worse, and then crumpled it up into a ball and thrown it away or burned it.  But I’m sure some people will like it.  Back to the angsty teen stuff tomorrow.  I guess I just feel there is more substance in those poems of mine.

Prey

I think I’ve decided to make this week “poetry week” on my blog.  I mentioned yesterday that I didn’t write much poetry after my teen years.  According to the date on this one, I was still just barely 19.  Poetry was the best outlet I had for my feelings and I don’t remember the inspiration for this one in particular, but I know I had moved away from all my friends and it took me a while to find my place in my new environment. I felt vulnerable, obviously.  Maybe I’ll look for something more uplifting tomorrow.

Prey

In this bleak world

I am the prey

Just another victim

A casualty without a name

What makes me feel these things?

And what is it I’m feeling?

I always get knocked down

Right after I’m done healing

I could hate this world

And all the people in it

But it all comes down to me

And the way I choose to live it

That may not make it better

In fact, it feels worse

But every human pays a price

Every mortal has a curse

–Terree L. Klaes – –

October 6, 1997

copyright

My Sestina Masterpiece

Once upon a time I took a creative writing class in high school.  Our most difficult assignment (for me anyway) was writing a sestina.  This is a type of poem with a very particular set of rules, including reusing the same six words in a certain order throughout.  I haven’t really done much poetry writing since my angsty teen years, but this one was a true feat to write, and after the darkness comes a glimmer of light, so I decided to share (did you catch my internal rhyme back there?).

fading memory

Faded memory

Much lost time had elapsed since this woman

Could bear the abuse of her forgotten

Past.  Now she’s silent and sadly withered,

As she is paralyzed, feeble, and old.

It is not her fault that she is so sad

And alone.  She just remembers the rain.

Many things had happened in this dark rain

That could not be put aside.  This woman

Had to block out the memories of sadness

And pain, which still linger on forgotten

Bruises and scars.  Searching through her dark old

Eyes, are few memories but of old withered

Roses she had no time for, which withered

And died from lack of soft fallen rain.

Then she viewed the garden with roses old

And dead,  A death this mistreated woman

Could not understand or ever forget

In her future, now present.  And how sad

It is.  Now time slips by in a sad

Way.  When she was a young girl, her withered

Aunt would say, “You’ll, too, be forgotten

And ugly soon.”  And on the window, rain

Would pelt to enforce the words this woman

Said.  The girl trembled from these awful old

Words, then joined by those of the other old

Ladies who would tell her that she was sad

And worthless.  Feeling as if the woman

Had stabbed her and made her become withered

In pain and grief.  All this time the hard rain

Would beat in the poor girl’s mind.  Forgotten

As she has, the abuse, she can’t forget

A sharp pain buried in her loving old

Heart.  She looks back at all the times it rained,

And does not know what she feels, but a sad

Memory she can’t find in her withered

Mind.  She is a loving, simple woman

The rain now can’t touch.  Forgotten and sad

She is not, nor too old and withered.

Forgiveness makes her a happy woman.

–Terree L. Klaes–  1995