Terry A. O'Neal's Blog, page 3

POWER TO HEAL

I will



search the world over



travel far an' wide



to arrive. my



final destination



before you, I shall stand amidst



a circle of dazzling light, with



a soft smile



your great hand, I reach



my (i's) close



slow ly



to my lips, your



broad palm, I kiss

down to



your finger tips



exerting electricity



compelling enough to heal



old battle wounds



[where heavy burdens gathered an'



settled there to stay:] now



have melted away







caress my cheek



oh so



tender



for a moment…



your palm, wh...

southern hospitality

he said

he was a friend of mine, that

we were connected through a life line

tracing back to the south

a full decade in distance

separated him and I

though familiar memories

of childhood disturbances

and dark spaces

affixed an adored bond



most times

he was kind, but

when he got mad

cayenne pepper shot          care-less-ly

from his tongue, he'd

run off at the mouth, roaring

God awful things

outright mean 

                     "I feel sorry for your husband 

         who has to put up...

a burning passion

kings, queens, their royalty

and gold riches

[my hands can't touch:]

my eyes can only admire

from afar        (sitting on my sofa

watching television)

rubies adorned

movie stars, singers, the elite rich

and famous, while

they prance the red carpet

flawless attire

teeth straight an' white

                         (they smile pretty)

75-carat diamond necklace

weighing down their neck

shoot rays of light

so bright

it penetrates my television set

hitting me in the face

leaving me no...

South Florida Today speaks to Terry a O'Neal

South Florida Today speaks with author and poet Terry a O'Neal ~

April 2, 2009

News 10~ Sacramento and Company Speak with Terry a

Sacramento and Company speaks with founder and president of The National Black History Bee, author, poet and youth activist Terry a O'Neal.





 

Sands of Time (Little Black Child sequel)

my soul lay south, where

fragments of a young boy subsist

motionless, longing

to escape

life's sad realities



mighty blows of thunder, furious

lightening bolts

strike down upon the south

piercing the north



shaken

is my spirit set adrift

through the gulf

where ferryboats float off

to Galveston—where

water meets land, and

secrets lay dormant

deep beneath the sand

amid the rich soil

influenced by our ancestors



a decade now past, yet

unbroken remains my affection

the memories

left...