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Ron Conway Feb 2019
So here you are, another year gone
I won't ask you what the plan is
I remember you telling me years ago
"I don't even buy green bananas"

It seems like your strategy (such as it is)
Has ended up serving you well
You've been so many places, done so many things
And have so many stories to tell

If the idea here is avoid disappointment
The plan falls a little bit short
No life is perfect, things happen to us
(Don't mean to be such a spoilsport)

You raised kids through the sixties I needn't say more
There's no need I should be specific
We got past all that and we all settled down
But we still have a flair for dramatic

You've done really well, I'm so proud of you Mom
Your the best of what this clan is
You set the example, I think that I too
Won't even buy green bananas

                                    rc
This is a poem I wrote for my mother on the occasion of her 95th birthday.
Ron Conway Jan 2019
religions oppress
none's better than another
world's full of victims
                                    rc
Ron Conway Jan 2019
super blood wolf moon
almost sounds ridiculous
but it's breathtaking
                        rc
Ron Conway Jan 2019
Your soul is within
The universe is without
Both are infinite
Ron Conway Jan 2019
Can I stay in the woods
Just another day - another hour
To feel the breathing of the earth
To bear witness to these massive green lungs
These carbon giants drinking as one
Devouring the transgressions of their global environs
Such an immense task
Struggling and failing to stay before
Their numbers cleaved in half
In a scant one hundred years
Cut and razed and plowed and concreted
Supplanted by cities and roads and grazing lands
Growing wealth for some
Growing meat for some
What to do? What to do?
Can't grow a forest in a parking lot
Can't displace those gassy bovines
From the desert evolves the jungle
But we don't have another hundred years
For now I'll stay in the woods
Just another day - another hour
To feel the breathing of the earth
                                                RC
Ron Conway Jan 2019
I forgive the mere mosquito that bites me on the neck
Consider if we didn't we'd be a puddled wreck
They come in crowds of thousands in an aerial assault
The energy to hold a grudge – well, we forgive them by default
I forgive the ones that get me, that drink at my expense
I forgive the ones that, mercy me, I **** in self defense
Of course I don't dislike the little beggers any less
Forgiving them won't serve to stem a subsequent transgress
It's not something we have to learn - from birth until our death
We know how to forgive one as we know to take a breath

There was an awfully bad assault when I was just a boy
With rising welts across my back like grisly corduroy
My profound embarrassment forced me to camouflage
Even now my mem'rys just an indistinct montage
That time I did not forgive. Mortified and angry
It took me years to realize – the forgiveness was for me
I forgive the ones that get me, that drink at my expense
I forgive the ones that, mercy me, I **** in self defense

                                            RC
This is a re-write of my original poem.
Ron Conway Jan 2019
Suppose I wrote a story
And told everyone it's true
I'd offer up a big reward
If you would say so too

But how could I deliver
On the promises I'd said?
Well here's the thing, you can't collect
'Til after you are dead

                  RC
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