Original Poetry – T.S. Deary

If anyone asks, 
just tell them, 
that the scars are healed, 
and, 
the mirror, 
no longer lies, 
when I look into it, 
eventaully all of them, 
will see with their own eyes, 
what I see with mine.

I have let it go, 
off to where I it belongs, 
to some other place, 
a place not my own, 
that was made, 
for all those, 
broken pieces. 

T. S. Deary 
P.A.F.M. 
12/23/25 

Snow days were the best days,
abandoned sense of time, 
nothing to worry about, 
except getting to the sledding hill, 
and then lighting the fireplace back home. 

Suspension of reality, 
all cares gone away, 
except for the puddles left by the snow boots abandoned right inside the front door. 

Snow days were the best days, 
even though they ended so quickly, 
becoming memories, 
whose reality evaporated, 
like the fireplace fire over night, 
of the puddles just inside the front door. 

Setting sun, 
moonshine forest, 
frozen, icy footprints, 
temporary memorial,
tothe best of days. 

T. S. Deary 
P.A.F.M. 
11/27 - 11/28/2025

I listened to the wind,
tapping against the window of that old house, 
I let my poem take me where my heart wanted to go. 

I watched the setting sun, 
knowing the ride was over, 
never shed a tear, 
for having had the honor of knowing him, 
and believing I would see him again. 

The wind picked up when we left the church. 
Those sacred words hanging in the air, 
the service of Christian Burial finished, 
all that remained was remembrance, 
the wind carried all out grief.

That wind, 
against the windows of that old house, 
still my soul listens. 

Remeber all you can, 
not in sadness, 
but in hope,
in joy for having known them,
and in pride for being part of their legacy. 

T.S. Deary 
11/8/25

This is the world we live in, 
surrounded by rubble and dust, 
not to distant from the brabed wire and tattoos, 
the lowest time of humanity.

Still confronting the rot of hatred, 
(the people of Israel) 
slogans and chanting...

"No Jews Allowed..."

Do they really understand what it is they say? 

Look at the world we live in, 
children's blood is spilling, 
look at the way they are killing, 
evil billing.

It's not the land they want, 
annihilation they seek, 
no sharing, 
only destruction. 

Held captive, 
babies salughtered, 
beheaded, 
left to die, 
destruction is what they bring, 
life is what they take. 

T.S. Deary 
10/31/25

I couldn't help but notice, 
her adorable face, 
red lipstick, 
blush accented cheeks. 

She is quiet, 
and readily apparent was her nervousness, 
to express what is usually hidden away.

Smile accentuated lipstick, 
revealing, 
so much, 
all contained in a simple smile, 
with red lipstick. 

T. S. Deary 
10/31/25

At a loss to explain this feeling.4
(as if I could burst into tears at any moment.)
vacilating around two different poles
(neveranytimetorest)

like
hands
reaching
from
some
dark
place
waiting
to
strangle
away
hope.

I become nocturnal
against my will
and 
better judgement.

the nature of this popularity contest
(voting by ballot for the native son or daughter)
names on gilded plaques
(they are the best after all) 
they have changed the water into wine
using talents for all to see
(they are the chosen after all)

they can do what no one can
(and if you do, no one will truly understand)

whats
to 
stop 
me
from
pounding 
the 
smile 
off
your
face
and
with
that
one
action
wiping
the
fame
out 
of 
your 
legacy...

(you were invited into my house to help
not to binge your fame addiction at the expense of my hospitality.) 

the nbox sat on the table
all of the contents were neatly arranged
until the cat spilled them on the floor.
(all its contents rejected in one motion.) 
a statement on unspoken advantage very simply stated.
(perceived and received well as well.) 

He came not to call the righteous to repentance but the sinners.
(those who are not sick have no need of a physician)
you can do what you want as a result of people like me who do what I do.

When I wake in the morning
and
put my feet on the floor
I know what I will do and not do.
(everything I do and do not do is not designed to get the attention of everyone else.) 

I 
go
where
my
heart
has led
me 
and
I leave behind
something
better.

unreal world
under the dull glare of fluorescent lights
(we become what we sow and reap what we are)
no rain on the dry ground
only shadows on the wall
(realization turns to self blame)

I live inside crazy, hand spun dreams
that are cultivated by dark and bizarre obsessions
(they become like mountain heartbeats)
driving
they skid along
(the game will take you away from here to places you may not be able to leave). 

when we were children and we had says off from school
for the weather you could go right across the road on the sled, 
(then came dark days, places unprouncable and full of irrational hate and violence...)

the neighborhood was hardly ever visited again
so long now
too long to be undone from top to bottom
he said. "come and visit"
but we ended up only walking around
(as if looking for a welcome sign no one seemed to remember)
night came and we all went our seperate ways
(dreams begin)

T. S. Deary 

30 August - 15 September 16

Satan's sacrament, 
evil aggravant, 
devil praise, 
self to raise. 

Praise of death, 
thief of breath, 
ultimate choice, 
no newborn voice. 

Evil construction, 
pre-born destruction, 
framed as constitutional choice, 
deconstructed new born voice. 

Killing business, 
no finesse, 
blinded allegiance, 
pratctice of malfeasance. 

Satanic applause, 
truly his cause, 
no healing hands, 
consigned ot barren lands. 

Satan's sacrament, 
his mighty, bloody sign, 
destruction of innocence, 
claiming human rigths, 
all but for the child. 

Who are you to unravel what God has knit together? 
Who are you, 
to annihilate what he has formed? 
Who are you, 
to discard his creation? 
Whe are you, 
to put your life above theirs? 
Who are, 
to ignore the laws of God? 

Above all else, 
self worship, 
cult of death. 

Whe are you to ignore divine revelation and to pretend that choices include killing your child? 

Look at the blood your spilling, 
look at the world you live in, 
look at the babies dying, 
look at the way they're crying! 

Your own souls, 
your killing. 
Avoidance of reality, 
Look at the blood your spilling, 
look at the way your killing. 

Look at the young woman crying, 
carrying a soul thats dying, 
look at the young men fleeing, 
total lack of feeling. 

Rachel is weeping, 
moral compass sleeping.

Do you thinkhe does not know? 
Do you think he approves? 

God says, 
My help is you! 
My help is when I sent you! 

And yet, 
so many stay quiet, 
hiding behind slogans that have no meaning.

Rudderless ships, 
floating along, 
never seeing the sea of blood they navigate, 
nor the coming tidal wave of God's justice, 
gathering strength, 
waiting to push aside all who claim choice, 
over the lives of innocents. 

He loves them more,
than anything he created, 
they belong to him, 
they are his. 

T.S. Deary 
9/9 - 9/11/25 

The storms here build up their massive energy between the sea breezes, 
an atmospheric power play, 
feeding on the heat of the day in summer, 
open clouds, 
drenching the ground, 
leaving behind the steaming pavement, 
no break from the heat, 
the windows remain shut until autumn, 
we fall asleep under the fan. 

In the mountains, 
the storms come after a few days of heat, 
clouds rising high over the mountains, 
they leave behind swollen creeks and fallen branches, 
fresh smelling air, 
there, we slept with the windows open, 
we won't close them until autumn. 

T. S. Deary 
6/27/25
P.A.F.M. 

And then there you are, 
here and now, 
in the fullness of the moment, 
all things possible, 
glorious freedom, 
no longer slaves, 
fully realized as children of God, 
nothing left to want, 
all to disregard, 
in this moment of freedom, 
newly given, 
to be taken. 

T. S. Deary 

6/25/25