Deaf American Poetry: An Anthology

To a Neglected Poet

Earl Sollenberger 114 To a Neglected Poet A poet is a thing that starves to death. —Howard L. Terry Terry, old soldier, let me try to write A sonnet’s worth of thanks for what you sent— Your sparkling poems! You are here tonight, Speaking to me, brilliant and eloquent. Reading, I hear you—while I realize The poet’s fate your life too clearly shows: Beauty the lure, and bitterness the prize, While life limps slowly to its tragic close. “First of all and sweetest singer born,” Terry, my anger rises and subsides, Shifting from humor to despair, that scorn As you received, your chief reward provides . . . But I have heard you sing, and to my soul Your soul appeared, defiant, buoyant, whole. ...