Terry Trainor

Terry Trainor
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I am a Poet.
My passion is to write about nature and the history of nature.
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Recent pages by Terry Trainor

As it has been written, our planet has rolled on its sublime course, and has brought the year and our task to their last moments. Soon another circle of the seasons will have been completed, adding one more to the years of the past and stamping on myriads of human creatures another su...
Providence still sends the moon and stars on the just and unjust. The world has enough for us all. From many years past and up to the present Christmas time has held happiness and misery to rich and the poor. This prose focuses on the past, but it could easily be the present. You deci...
This post has been written about the country way of life before the land enclosure laws enforced in the late eighteenth century. This part of our history is not well documented. This era is a passion of mine as the lands were free and opened there were many more plants and flowers, ma...
It's a piece of prose with some sprinklings of morality in the tale. It's about how people are treated and these, like many others are treated badly. A mighty warrior of a man regains the respect and dignity back to their world and with that new recognition that they are people with f...
Hi I am the writer and publisher of this prose and have tried to emphasize a moral about mans inhumanity to man in this post. Thank you for talking time to read read it. And thanks for the moderation.
Most people don't like getting caught in the rain, but as a young boy I used to love it. Things are different when it's raining and people do strange things. So this prose is a snapshot of a boy watching people and things when it's raining.
A man watches the sunrise and the affect the sun and the sky has on the land around him. He understands how small he is in the scheme of things as he looks around the beauty of a landscape. For a moment he sees this wonder with the innocence of child before experience and education to...
As we all get older our long ago friends get fewer and fewer until they're all gone. Many think the older generation are nostalgic and live in the past. I think that these people live in the past as they feel they have no value in today's society. Spending time alone for days with nob...
In a time where class communities had there own places set in society, when education was not the way out of poverty and born class culture. Did education play a part of making people unhappy with their lives as they learned there might be a better way, is ignorance bliss?
An old house stands in ruins, but it's been where it is for a very long time. It's been forgotten, neglected and slowly with time age begins to take away it's beauty, it's purpose. But age has made a mistake, time has added a different beauty, a beauty that nature has gifted this old ...
Thinking back to cold November nights years ago. Seeing the beauty of frost on trees and white carpets on meadows. Remembering as a boy, never feeling the cold.
When we cast our minds back to long ago days, do we see reality or do we view these time through rose coloured glasses?
It's a bit complicated, but it's about a boy with an unhappy childhood. The boy turns to nature and the beauty of nature to take his mind off his problems. As he grows old he begins to think about those times and would like the opportunity to go back in time to leave his younger self ...
My coach Bob and myself were on a plane going to Rio. To pass the time I told him how to make a Galvanoscope.
How do we tell when it is hot or cold, we could use crickets, but I like to use a thermometer.
A group of friends have fun in a noisy restaurant and science hits the spot.
Hosting a dinner party can be stressful, but with a bit of planning and great entertainment it will all go well.
Walking alone in the night I stopped to look at a full moon, all was so quiet, all was so peaceful.
It's a piece about how magnets came about and how to make one, a subject I have been attracted to for years.
There’s a wooden trolley with wheels from an old pram, string on the front axle to steer. My trusty blue spud gun sits next a potato with loads of holes in it, so I steal another one. And a brass oil can used on my bike chain and wheels, had a little pump on the top of it.
An old man lives alone and has no one to talk to. He is sad and just wants to have a bit of company.
This is the season of forest splendour and trees wear their finest robes they burst forth into all their richest and warmest colours of the year,
Blackberries hang thick in hedges, the mushrooms spring up white, A geometric spider hangs his web on trees in an early morning light.
Sweet air from scented flowers has drifted away on an autumn breeze, Green seas of swaying grass say goodbye, while apples drop from trees.
A black sky burst open, it darkened everything around and it started to rain, Lightning flashed where land met the sky and for a second it was light again,
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