Bøger af Terry Ireland

Unconventional memoirs of a brief, but eventful Army career, and subsequent fall from grace of a military misfit..

A rambling collection of poems from a rambling life.Farm labourer's son, poacher, gravedigger's assistant, while still at schoolIn adult life Civil Servant, soldier, insurance agent, company director, market trader, market researcher, double glazing canvasser, tea salesman, to name most of my ventures.Not an illustrious career but it kept food on the table.Finally, in retirement, Occasional Performance Poet together with my wife Sue.Not bad for a dyslexic, Dyspraxic.A rambling introduction then to this rambling collection.

As the Covid 19 Pandemic hopefully draws to its end a final collection from what has been, poetically, a productive period. Poetry written for performance, many not yet aired, bit needing to escape out into the world at large. Collected and published in no particular order, and covering a multitude of subjects, possibly reflecting the authors untidy state of mind, let's hope it pleases any reader.

Growing up and life beyond in an East Yorkshire village,

The latest in a series of volumes of poetic ramblings garnered from a long and varied life.Opinions, ideas, facts, fictions and fantasies, in no particular order, just as they came to be.Agree or disagree but hopefully enjoy at least one or two before closing the book.

A selection of whinges and Grumpy Old Man poems to celebrate the unexpected achievement of octogenarian status, which seems to happily coexist with a mental age of just twenty three on a good day.Dedicated to all my surviving friends, and those many more passed but fondly remembered, with special mention of Hawkins and Simpson.Not forgetting my long suffering wife, and fellow poet, Sue, and my late wife Irene.Let battle commence and enjoyment, hopefully, follow.

Dipping the toes into different experiences, world, and fantasies. Jut because we can't always see things it doesn't mean they don't exist, sometime. somehow, somewhere. Maybe we are the subjects of others' imaginations too. Who knows?