Click image to order
Never miss a post
Your email address:*
Please enter all required fields
Correct invalid entries


« Two Poems [by Mitch Sisskind] | Main | Tonight at 7 PM (East Coast time): Michael Caine and Poets (including Lally and Lehman) »

October 29, 2021


Devastating. Deeply moving. Really these words are not sufficient, do not assuage the pain. But as you note you are the Survivor. And we are lucky to have your poetry.

O Terence, what a moving poem! Each stanza ends with a heartache your reader feels too.

He lives. Two sweet boys in one. Thank you, Terence.

This is beautiful and devastating. Your friend chose the perfect friend to haunt.

noble yet still humble to share that tragedy and its ongoing aftermath so brilliantly

Wrenchingly beautiful and sad. Kudos to you, my brother, for this incredibly evocative moment bringing back fond and sad memories.

That’s a beautiful and haunting piece, Terence.

Brilliant elegy. And how we carry one another in memory and in our bodies.

Beautiful heartbreaking poem. The ketchup and mayonnaise and mustard are great five year old kid colors. Thank you for posting this poem!

Beautiful is the word. A perfectly artful description of the way the lasting memories of people we have loved are carried in our bodies.

Terence, your poem reminds me that through vulnerability and dependency we connect to one another. Faith is human relations, that and nothing more.

The concluding "bereft of you" and "left of you" is terrific. (In all senses.)

Stunning lyric holding such a tragic shock. Breathtaking.

I remember Dennis. He was a beautiful child and came along on many a trip to the zoo or the park with us. It’s still a sad memory but he lives in a special place in your heart ❤️

Stunningly beautiful.

A stunning memory -- and poem. The ending stanza is beautiful.

A horrific moment in time, but a beautifully crafted tribute. Wonderful piece of art, Terry.

May God have mercy on his immortal soul, and let perpetual light shine upon him. This is a first-rate send up. He knows of your good deed here. The dead always know. Bravo.

You are unbelievable, Terence. The memory has to be more powerful than the poem, but the poem as memory is powerful, powerful indeed. You are a poet.

Stunning. A good good friend of yours, I'd never heard this story before and now hear it in its bravest, most pointed, sacred form. My times are changed, beautifully, by the poem's grace. Your power to sing has never been stronger, Terence. And to think you've had it inside all this time. The world now has this poem to move all of us forward with. I walk and think differently now, for the better, for life.


Deeply moving poem. Grief can tie the tongue, but you tackle it so gracefully and naturally. no surprise, those are characteristic of all your poems. Thank you.

Donne’s “Holy Sonnet 10,” which begins with the four-word rebuke “Death, be not proud,” and Wordsworth’s “Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood,” which ends with the unreachable ache of the last line “Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears,” swam back to me after reading Terence Winch’s poem “Survivor.” On a self-evident level, the title refers to both the poet, who barely escaped death, and his boyhood friend, who met his death far too young yet lives on through the poem and the memory of its author. How do we give words to ineffable, sudden, full-stop tragedy and its incessant nipping at our psyche for having the effrontery to live on? Terence has done something extraordinary here: he has given words to word-defying tragedy in a way none of us can shake off. If ever words could matter, his do here. This searing, soul-searching poem is an enduring testament to a cruelly curtailed friendship brought vibrantly alive through the words of one of our finest poets today. Terence Winch has rescued his friend for all of us. To quote Donne again: “For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow / Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.”

When I was five, shortly before my parents were preparing to move us (I was an only child) to another state, I learned that my best friend (also named David) had struck his younger brother in the head with a hammer. On purpose, I gathered, nearly killing him. I never saw him again, nor heard anything more about it. A different kind of a violence and separation. I hadn't thought about this childhood incident for some time before reading Terence's poem. Like Robert, the "bereft" and "left" rhyme at the end really got me.

So beautiful, moving and perfect, Terence. Go raibh maith agat.

What a wonderful tribute to a dear friend. You express so well how Dennis lives on in you. He is proud of your talent and smiling with you.

Verify your Comment

Previewing your Comment

This is only a preview. Your comment has not yet been posted.

Your comment could not be posted. Error type:
Your comment has been posted. Post another comment

The letters and numbers you entered did not match the image. Please try again.

As a final step before posting your comment, enter the letters and numbers you see in the image below. This prevents automated programs from posting comments.

Having trouble reading this image? View an alternate.


Post a comment

Your Information

(Name and email address are required. Email address will not be displayed with the comment.)

click image to order your copy
That Ship Has Sailed
Click image to order
BAP ad
"Lively and affectionate" Publishers Weekly


I left it
on when I
left the house
for the pleasure
of coming back
ten hours later
to the greatness
of Teddy Wilson
"After You've Gone"
on the piano
in the corner
of the bedroom
as I enter
in the dark

from New and Selected Poems by David Lehman


  • StatCounter