Terry Severhill



* Someone once said, “….Pain is nature’s way
of telling us we’re still alive….”

Yes, I know.
Just at the corner of the eye.
It’s happened before,
brought forth by inattention or a song half remembered.
Whether in the kitchen or the art studio
I see too much or not enough.
In the corners where dust and
shadows accumulate.
Where memories have lain waiting.
At the intersection of hope and despair.
Whys are never answered by the wise.

I want, no I need more,
Just as the mind almost recognizes
that slight, furtive shadow motion.
We lose sight.                                                               
Those blind spots we had when we insisted
that everything was OK.
That things would work out for the best.
That blindness left me mute.
At the moment of greatest need.

Anger is an all too frequent visitor.
There is no refusing entry,
And no one can out shout anger.
The fragile moments
Like the lingering scent of you
hanging, drifting room to room.
Now they leave me weeping and speechless.





Terry Severhill has appeared in: Damnfino, A Quiet Courage, Soul-Lit, Gyroscope Review and others. Recipient of the “Art Young’s Good Morning Memorial Award for Poetry 2016”, he has appeared in over a dozen anthologies and more pending. He resides in Vista, Ca, San Diego County where he writes. He reads at several open mic venues each month. When not writing or gardening he volunteers at a homeless/marginalized shelter and works as a peer to peer mentor to homeless vets.