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96 · Aug 2020
An Offering of Light
Ron Aug 2020
Were my light even brighter
I would be invisible
I could live concealed in my realm
never once knowing
the absence of joy
I would be stunned
by that void
into which shadows vanish
forms dissolve
and in falling,
I would imagine flying
without a sky
Only sounds would reach
My surviving memory
Clear as a tinkling bell
and never again
Would I have need,
for feigning introductions,
or false niceties.
96 · May 2020
8 oz.
Ron May 2020
On his table is a cup,
filled with a need,
to satisfy her receptacle,
of weights and measures,
without such whose proportions,
he could not know.
His own hands mix sugar and flour,
chocolate and longing.
His mind must be precise,
Or her words may grey out,
to a flavorless poem,
a definite defeat of taste.
The chocolate cake he knows she likes,
smooth dark frosting,  
rich with butter.
His mind needs more than tablespoons,
Of sugar and flour, cups of it,
Mixed with a pinch,
Of a sweet sultry gaze,
Sifting through his lover’s day.
Till with his hand he cups her chin,
And turns again,
to mix her mouth with his.
This woman is his table,
And he the cup.
95 · Jul 2020
Beastly Grief
Ron Jul 2020
Please hush those books
of gruesome dark beasts
page after page they tremble me
They feed on my grief
with a hunger that rivals
the sadness of sudden parting.
Yet I am nowhere without them,
those beasts who never die.
They gnaw at me like oceans at shores.
Perhaps I too would be full of beasts
if not for daylight to make them lazy.
Or maybe those books only spill the blood
Of those beasts of grief they would conceal?
95 · Jun 2020
A Momentary Lifespan
Ron Jun 2020
How long would you have loved me?
A lifetime?
Ah wait, but that was too long?
Let us say just a moment.
Life is best but a moment,
If life is scarcely a day.
Might you have loved me then?
Perhaps while you drank,
From my life’s delicate cup,
with your sweet face turned up,
To love's exquisite taste.
Just one rapturous moment,
While my love inhaled you,
Like the soul of a flower,
For the space of a breath,
Within the breath of my space,
Where my words had no power,
But did their best to express,
Something so divine, so enchanting,
As your souls lingering scent,
Thrilling through all of my mind,
But at last in a sigh,
to be breathed out and spent.
Just one moment no longer,
and then all of my strength and desire,
all my passion exhausted,
With nothing left of my fire,
Gray ash scattered in the wind.
But then would you have clung to me?
Would you have then loved me?
Or would you have loathed me,
and scorned me,
And ruthlessly flung me away?
Yet again?
This maddening moment, I beg let the next,
Show what it chooses to reveal.
Is it enough that you loved me but a moment?
It was I after all,
who let fate spin her wheel.
What though from my dream when I awake?
My love a mere frolic it does seem.
What is life at best but a dreaming sleep,
And what is love, but just a dream,
A brief fleeting thought,
Only for fools to keep?
94 · Aug 2020
A Bit Keyed Up
Ron Aug 2020
Just as I locked my door, and pocketed the key,
I glanced over my shoulder only to see,
My tortured soul staring back at me.
'Look, I said,
"this name is your name, this door is your door,"
And though I accept that now; why did I put the key,
in the back of my mind to hide it from me?

So my soul let me go,
but my name has been lost,
Along with the key.
94 · Dec 2024
Earth-Bound Lover
Ron Dec 2024
If only I could come back,
I would run under any color sky.
I’d still embrace you after years pass,
with two old and wrinkled hands.
I don’t want wings to lift me up high,
I just want your kisses when I cry.
I want our eternity at the breakfast table,
with my coffee, and your bread.
I want you, my earth-bound lover,
to touch my face again.
93 · Jul 2020
A Solemn Wander
Ron Jul 2020
Solemn I sat drinking  
and never noticed the dusk fall.
I sat dreaming and never knew
it was evening that grew
Till the fresh falling stars
filled the folds of my clothes.
So drunk I arose
In search of moonlight water
To quench my solemn thirst
For just a little longer
93 · Oct 2020
Abandonment
Ron Oct 2020
I guess you could have called it poetic how by the age of 16 I had no recollection of what happiness tasted like on my tongue, but yet new well the taste of sorrow. Some might say it was poetic and tragically beautiful.
It was not poetic, nor was it beautiful, but it was tragic. It was so very, very sad, and that sadness has only expanded now that I’ve grown to see others seek glory in sorrow.
The sorrow of another is never glorious, never something to seek, unless to alleviate the source. Sorrow is not strength. It is a lump of hot iron in your chest that burns you from the inside out, and it is sour and harsh and repulsive to taste.
And yet still I have no right to think that the sorrow of another is anything other than tragic, or any less so than my own. Though it is human, it is not nature, your sorrow is your own, and belongs to no other.
Sorrow is like an abandoned building, empty and lifeless, resigned to a fate it does not know.
People never seem to pay much attention to abandoned buildings though,
until they become one.
92 · Feb 2021
Silent Sorrow
Ron Feb 2021
Oh daylight star burning bright red
My shadow stands mute on the mountain
Please whisper my secrete name
Over distant lands I have seen

Will solitude never tire of silence,
And thereby long to sing?
Hearing not of the winds of June,
Means not that they have lost their tune.

Never did I know how subtle,
Was the secret success of silence,
Till thunderous showers ravaged my valleys,
Shattering my stillness to fragments.

Silent mirrors of night-stained waters,
Where do you keep your secret tomorrows?
Floating on petals of glistening calmness.
Then drifting away in shrouded sorrows
91 · Apr 2022
Sunlight and Earth
Ron Apr 2022
Where before me,
have my ages then gone?
And where behind me,
Are the coming new birth?
I think of sunlight and earth,
They lost without limit,
without end, without mirth.
In silence I sit alone,
As my tears fall down.
Adding water and salt,
To sunlight and earth.
90 · Apr 2021
Pale Green
Ron Apr 2021
Again, the tall weeds
Have grown pale green in my garden
Changed yet unchanged they remain

But I have hurt you
Who looks at me with pale green eyes
Those tears contained of which are mine

Time goes by with evenings glow
Tall weeds grow, pale green and slow
Pain fertilized among them

I hear your silent words
Running among the ****’s unseen
Still your hurt I retain

Sleepless this morning
Green weeds have comfort none,
Hurt, you grow cold colored flowers,

Weeping pale green among them.
90 · Aug 2020
Separation
Ron Aug 2020
She weeps,
Never to see her true love again.
Soft cheeks gleam wet on her face.
She might ask where now
Her love may be found.
Past streets of longing
Empty is her place.
The passing of my neighbors spouse, married 52 years, I mourn for her loss.
89 · Sep 2020
Enchanted Traveler
Ron Sep 2020
Out of the wind you visit me,
With the rain of being,
Still fresh on your clothes.
I ask where have you been?
You say: Hidden deep in a haze,  
Of swordtail and swallows,
Living at ease as we did,
When last, we once parted,
Laughing wild as emerald fire,
Leapt cosmic from our *******,
As blue dogs danced madly,
At our capricious request.
How grey our thin hair,
has grown since then!
If you follow me now,
I’ll I enchant you again!
89 · Sep 2020
Eloquence of a Kiss
Ron Sep 2020
I should have kissed you
in our garden of sighs
under the deep purple sky
while you shook the daylight
from your free-falling hair
that moment knowing only
the thick stain of life
staining fingers tip to tip
colors dripping limb to limb
tasting deeply the seasons
of the whole world hidden
on your **** tender lips.
89 · Apr 2022
Passage
Ron Apr 2022
I sit on my step and offer you wine,
 And ask where you are going and why?
You answer: "I am discontent yet resolute,
  That I will find rest at the foot of my shadow.
Please allow me to leave, and ask no more questions”.
  As I watch white clouds pass without end.
89 · Jul 2020
Apathy
Ron Jul 2020
Little by little
I feel languid with life.
Who pities the vigor that withers?
Only the image in my mirror
Joins me in tears.
89 · Aug 2020
Unwise Dialog
Ron Aug 2020
Bought as a lark,
From the corner pet store,
A green and blue parrot,
vivid as newly leaved trees,
Talked always in human words.
And still they did to it then,
what has always been done,
To the oh-so wise and talkative,
They bought a cage with sturdy bars,
And shut it up inside.
89 · Jan 2021
Pause
Ron Jan 2021
Something tossed on a chair
makes you mentally linger
the scent of her hair
Her woman’s whisper
her musical laughter
Now crosses your absence
So the days pass by
As you strain to listen
For her beckoning voice
In the darkening distance.
88 · Jun 2020
Solitudes Way
Ron Jun 2020
Below the tree line
love ran its rank course
in hungry silence, with diligence,
where all are meat, and none are free,
to the lone wolf prowling through the pines
pure of heart, and lovers’ dreams
over many a distant hill he roams
his silent sorrow speaks to me.

Here amongst these rolling hills
among no person's love or lust
resigned to chase his dimming suns
with knowledge of his end to come.
None should know such lonely thoughts,
as this simple creature, filled with light,
chasing always loves request
to find his longing in the night.

Howling deeds that others shun,
Silver drops of heartache shimmer,
from jaws of silent moonlight come,
glowing with the faintest glimmer,
of peaceful evenings left undone.

Those longing cries for others,
Friends, enemies, lovers,
They cannot peer within
such chilly hills where solitude lives
Lone wolves run free and live apart
They have no brothers, no friends, no lovers,
to claim their lonely wandering heart,
the coldest, grimmest winds that blow
are all they need to nourish and feed,
their hunger wandering cold
and lean amongst the silent trees
88 · Aug 2020
Alejandro
Ron Aug 2020
That cold narrow slab,
hardly any larger than a child's bed,
is where Alejandro died.
I bore away with him the tears of his gods,
the weight of his death, the frailty of his love.
I who separated them, his words and things,
Who did blend them with the cries and torments,
of that most foul and dark place
Knew he had come to an end.
With no smile amongst my flooding tears,
I longed for home for a few wretched hours,
While I waited him to breathe again

Could there be no sorrow too distant, too remote,
No lash to hard, no fear too impalpable,
To quell our captors delight?
Alejandro from birth through ****** pain
His faith an undefinable surge gaining perch,
Within my stirring and unearthly sleep
Dampens my dreams to tears
rest well my friend,
for I have remained with you,
throughout these many years.
88 · Jun 2020
debauchery
Ron Jun 2020
what have I to offer them
unreasonable nymphos in the night
reasons I have none, but only a desire
to quench their ***** of fire
so bring that chocolate sauce just bought
that may be used or maybe not
on buttocks quivering oh so near
while cat-o-nines install their fear
of a pain transfigured sexually
by someone’s orderly advice.
I’d like to show my astonishment
as I run my tongue on buttered skin
how ridiculously gentle I have been
chasing naked up the stair
that dampened patch of ***** hair
but no, their desire has infected me
and now I’ve lost my sheepish grin
now no more shyness
let’s begin.
88 · Oct 2020
Please Leave
Ron Oct 2020
Sleepless without ease,
I see I will not be,
Next to your lilied body.
You were neither,
my master, nor my muse,
But only a longed-for delirium,
dismissed but loose in my memory.
Distant yet never so close,
sleepless I walk your sinking earth,
lying down only to hear your mirth,
And feel your hard ticking of time.
I urge you, set fire to the rage,
Collect the ashes of your pain,
And go,
Then allow me to sleep here alone.
87 · Jul 2020
Ambience
Ron Jul 2020
slender clouds.
smell of light rain
midday sun is hiding again.
within this liquid luminosity
I only just notice my clothes
are somehow soaked in color.
87 · Aug 2020
Greys Eyes Open
Ron Aug 2020
Seamstress of my dreams,
upon the break of day
you sew the sleepy
eyelids of shadow
onto my open
eyes of grey.
86 · Sep 2020
Snuffed Out
Ron Sep 2020
You glow in my heart
Like the flames of a thousand candles
But when I reach to warm my hands
My clumsiness upends the light
And then I stumble
Against my love and desire
And your cold indifferent stare
86 · Oct 2020
Red
Ron Oct 2020
Red
I longed for red lips,
red roses and rest,
soft cotton and comfort,
found upon her smooth breast.

The red of her love so entangled me,
But oh how I did crave the pain
To banish my own mediocrity
And burn in her molten red rain

In our days we danced so wildly,
Through red skies so happy we flew,
But soon our red turned to crimson,
A red much too heavy for two.

Now I long for white roses,
A somber display,
I’ll curse it in horror,
And fling it away.
86 · Jan 2021
Eclipse
Ron Jan 2021
I am loving,
a wonderfully **** you,
intense in a sudden sense
where shades are drawn,
against a coming eclipse,
Sharply showing at noon.

The light streams thin,
Hungry for your face,
In a hurry to trace,
Its soft outline upon you,
A revelation in its image,
An unveiling anew.

I find too much ecstasy,
In the curve of your sun,
Too much left untasted,
Sudden salt on my tongue,
Eyes dim unable to focus,
Shadows dance, elated,

I am much too narrow,
In the coming darkness,
Breath drawn in, a scent of you,
Skin merged, as umbra’s do
My being sensed, soon it knew
I had then just willingly
Been eclipsed by you.
86 · Jul 2020
Autumn Leavings
Ron Jul 2020
Cold and dim
the year draws to its end
Sipping my wine,
I search for the warmth
of sunlight on my chilly porch.
In the garden of my house
all leaves have fallen
In the garden of my heart,
many memories lay rotten
I tip my glass
and drink deep of the dregs
I look to the kitchen
but no light there glows.
Half written poems, unread books
Still stacked beside my creaky chair
But my autumn light is gone now
and I’ll not have time
to read again this year
85 · Jul 2020
Butterfly Sighs
Ron Jul 2020
Your beautiful thoughts like butterflies blow by,
With such swift colors on their fragile wings.
Some are less articulate than a sigh,
And others simply names,
of ancient songs and lovely things.
What delicate fluttering’s of escape,
as they pass beyond my grasping reach,
To leave their haunting wispy shapes,
Eluding my careful traps of speech.
And though I watch and listen and wait,
To view the colorful clouds blow through,
I’m longing for some colors escape,
To venture near my heart so true.
So maybe being a fortunate captor
Should it happen time to time,
That one be caught so trembling,
Within my mortal rhyme.
Then to you I would give in haste,
This,
my most precious find.
85 · Aug 2020
Life's Longing
Ron Aug 2020
The laughter of leaves,
whisper testament,
over cool caverns,
ancient moss,
the absurdity of clocks,
and rain upon rocks
while serpents dance,
backlit with sunglow,
at the speed of life,
daring us to defy,
this timeless tapestry,
in which we all grow,
Our voice of life’s longing.
85 · Jun 2020
Crying Light
Ron Jun 2020
Last night I could not sleep
Due to the moonlight crying on my bed.
I kept hearing its distant voice calling,
Asking questions of sudden regret
And then quiet out of nowhere,
Nothing nebulous then answered “Yes.”
84 · Sep 2020
Anybody?
Ron Sep 2020
Who has placed a shadow,
between the sun and I
to sense the aura
of a dark atmosphere
just under my mortal skin?

Who then chases my myth,
soaked in the blood
of the primordial hunt?

Who will concentrate,
My unknown language
into a singular cry
that falls heavy
into the eternal night?

Who then will search for me
Within the endless depths
of my suspended life?

Who will find meaning
in this poem hidden
from the hands of knowledge
waiting in shadows
with a hesitant touch?

Who indeed,
Would even care so much?
84 · Jun 2020
Erudition
Ron Jun 2020
The one whom I thought of as a teacher
Passed deftly like the shade leaving no shadow.
He drank all the inertia, all the lethargy,
And waited himself in vain for fame.
He was his own omen, and the warning,
compassion for all, breathing torment,
Until he endlessly suffocated himself
On the nothing for which he waited.
I have learned well of his teaching,
It has become me.
83 · Sep 2020
Shade
Ron Sep 2020
What the material world values
Does not shine the same
in the truth of my soul.
Long have I been intrigued
by her shadow.
The sun a mere backdrop
to her grace and beauty.
I have need to rest lightly,
In her shade.
82 · Jun 2020
Melancholy Eyes
Ron Jun 2020
As when a numbing illness or hard times past do part,
Could it possibly be that a terrified body and mind,
Does envelop in warm thoughts to repose a childhood rhyme?
Will every leaf in the forest, every stone on a path then release,
an unheard lyric to accompany melancholies departing spirit?
Does her prompt arrival with ***** wings and crusty eyes,
In poor days of ill health, low spirits and mournful times,
then bode well for her later departure with joyful cries?
A shy creature then am I, trembling softly from the dusk,
To view calamities past, through melancholies truthful eyes.
80 · Jun 2020
Nodding Off
Ron Jun 2020
Come in
Said the sound

As I tumbled down
A staircase of toneless music

Or perhaps it was just me
falling asleep

To a lyric only found
In my transit.
80 · Jan 2021
Spectral
Ron Jan 2021
In distant times one might see her,
walking restless lonely streets,
compassion trailing in her breeze,
A simply being of light, she fought,
against the enemies of love and loss.
Unlike a ghost or a wandering wraith,
Her eyes were not a such solemn lakes,
but lifted her love, her life, her fate.

Blue eyes teasing skies above,
till nights unknown enigma begun,
My friend, my love, my poet, my dove,
If not reading, writing or crying tonight,
Above my laptops blueish light,
Should her silken breath then kiss my ear,
my death may then be solid and real,
as her ghost of life might then become.
80 · Aug 2020
Buttered Bread
Ron Aug 2020
You'll be a lousy, solitary, misunderstood poet
Someone told me as they buttered my fresh baked bread.
Time slowed
The winds stopped moving
And the afternoon sun shifted its path
To follow those words instead.
The knife made its way
Still slippery and warm
Back to the butter dish
You'll become a coarse and crummy poet, they said
you're tailor-made for it,
you're ugly and skinny,
quiet, dull and dreary.
You'll write in small rooms with low light, pensive and poor
you'll write, they said
as the butter now soft
soaked into the bread
in front of a screen on cold nights drinking wine
tainted with scorn
weeping with sorrow,
and rage, and dread
The knife had by then sunk into the butter
the butter my poem,
the knife the life I have led.
79 · Aug 2020
Childish Fear
Ron Aug 2020
Flee now from witches and wizards
Along ethereal paths of dreadful haze
Careful now of those tower lights
Searching the mists for human blood
Wicked the bones rattle hollow around me
Resilient the mystery of darkness remains
In the past periphery of my childhood days
79 · Aug 2020
Visual Misuc
Ron Aug 2020
Lights through a thousand dappled leaves,
Recall my mind from a noon day nap.
The shadow of a tree grows winding on my wall,
Through the variegated path of my window screen.
The tree on a hill shares the sun's bright light,
Warming my shades only partly drawn.
All life is now shadow in my room it does seem.
And now I know not if I wake or I sleep,
Music breathes through the silence to sing,
Wind in the shadows tree leaves or a song?
Drawn from a violin with shadows for string,
Be this visual music within my dream?
78 · May 2020
Culinary Prose
Ron May 2020
Deliciously delicate she says,
But how would she know?
could she taste her succulent syllables,
as they dripped from my quivering lips?
77 · Jun 2020
Life's Flight
Ron Jun 2020
How quiet do I walk among the crowd,
To silence my existence pretension,
and speak of such posterity aloud,
of joyful days, children’s ways,
and tragic plays of passion.
Now peering deeply,
into darkest of night,
I find form in a chaos of feeling,
Dim lit by art’s anemic light,
Enabling a view in the silken silence,
Of my own life’s terminal flight!
77 · Jul 2020
Buddy
Ron Jul 2020
I had a buddy,
My buddy was a toad,
my buddy is flat,
He is flat on the road.
Don't laugh, 1st poem I ever wrote, 6th grade, got an "A".
76 · Jul 2020
Forgotten Blooms
Ron Jul 2020
I saw a blood red paper flower today,
barely nourished by a forgotten stain,
it’s leaves blackened in shadow.
Too much neglect will do that,
slow the sap’s passage,
blacken the leaves,
dry the green to gray,
and the heart.
It may have been saved,
If only someone had listened.
But nobody I told believed,
in its odd color or scent,
or the way its leaves grew,
in fragrant splayed rows,
down the entire length of the page.
In fact, the very page itself,
smelled faintly of spilled red wine,
dark chocolate, and treachery.
And something else,
something hard to describe,
the mustiness of the sea,
on a foggy day perhaps?
The odor of truth it was,
Wilted words in shades of red
so familiar,
yet so strangely new.
Words you could have almost,
wrote yourself,
if only in your dreams,
there had been a pencil,
a pen, or even a paintbrush,
a thought presented paper thin,
If only there had ever really been,
a flower to see.
76 · Jun 2020
Honey
Ron Jun 2020
He hangs onto
her every word
with a delicious yearning
for the next batch of honey
to fall from her porcelain lips
and while he withers
with wanting,
her words spill golden
as a lazy summer’s love
from a hundred other flowers
just like her.
75 · Nov 2024
Gods of Summer
Ron Nov 2024
I remember digging through,
dumpsters, garbage, alleys, tombs,
Scraping knees and losing shoes,
I remember how he just left me,
Two-faced and praying too soon.
I remember praying too,
For the sun to come up.
Do you remember,
All those gods of summer?
75 · Dec 2024
Rising Softly
Ron Dec 2024
Shake loose those eyes of sleep,
Bright eyed souls of clear water,
Springs laughter in a forest deep.

The sun climbs high,
promising light for your crystal hair.
My tender hands cup your *******

Apples of my desire,

Their smoothness slakes my thirst,
Their softness sweet like honey,
Wake up my love!

Joy is in my heart,
It flutters softly throughout my soul,
Softly.
74 · Aug 2020
Bearing
Ron Aug 2020
Strung tightly he remains
Like a violin in mating season
And the banal carpet
His two bare feet do stain
Solemnly still he stands
In his kaleidoscopic rain
Until mystery dissolves him.
All in perfect poise somehow.
74 · Jun 2020
Adrift
Ron Jun 2020
Her whispers gone
With the evening wind
Like silk lips on
My electric skin
Her thoughts unspoken,
leaking through her eyes
With her whispers drifting
even now I wonder
Whether she loved me
I shall never know
74 · Jul 2020
Carnage
Ron Jul 2020
This mournfulness, this restlessness
these inner convulsions,
Bound on a cloudy island,
heartache within, body still dying
all this hard fought by me.

And they were vast,
those tears, those pleas, those hearts that bleed
great walls of steel, calamity,
harsh words, and promises,  
Of spring to be,

Life undone by a stubbornness mine
Destruction achieved in perfect rhyme.
Some gray mornings
the wind and I,
Still wish for a sun to see
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