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74 · Dec 2024
Conundrum#1
Ron Dec 2024
You,
born for this creation,
can never
repeat these sayings,
Since you,
Yourself,
Are poetry’s sensation,
a single,
and beautiful citation.
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
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
72 · Dec 2024
Stopped
Ron Dec 2024
Every time I try to help i am thwarted.
I want to be better,
want to be lesser,
than what is needed,
to be,
an expansion of
a better comparison,
to be a tree
for those in need
to be free
of life's misery
to be there
for those in need,
but am thwarted,
by love.
Always by love,
it thwarts me.
72 · Sep 2020
Blending In
Ron Sep 2020
Water plays
in the shade of trees
Clouds flit through
new moonlight
Alone in the darkness
stands my shadow,
completely unnoticed
in the damp twilight.
71 · Aug 2020
Love and Madness
Ron Aug 2020
The west wind screams,
A hard rain comes,
Beyond the sound,  
Of this immediate need,
the noise of near thunder,
turns the sky’s great lock.
Ozone fries as lightning flies,
A tattle wind tries to escape.
Young as I peered,
through my bedroom screen,
when the gods of weather,
struck me dumb.
The love of the storm,
Still ignites my sadness,
One inch of love,
is another of madness.
71 · Jun 2020
Fading Moon
Ron Jun 2020
Why did you fade into the dawn so soon?
So far away beyond the lightened hills
natures sounds made a thousand songs for you
Yet could not hold you with the morning dew
We dream of our past, yet dream of you still,
Where are you now, little fading moon?
71 · Dec 2024
Conundrum #2
Ron Dec 2024
I lay awake late at night
imagining lines  
of poetic passion to the beat
of my heart, and the patter
Of rain
soaking my clothes in sorrow.

I watch the thin words flow,
testament to my writings suicide
hearts broken on the verse of my words.
She is embedded in this verse
and can hear the whispering words
crying lullabies and wishes
in the form of words.
where reluctantly they,
on tear-stained paper are born.

there is no offer of salvation
as I drown in my thoughts of her words,
just to bleed her sound from my soul
I reproduce such tasteless tears
to keep my eyes weeping.
Page after page I re-create
my heartbroken dreams.

Onward her memory drives me,
Imploring for just a second to herself,
that maybe my poetry,
will not be the only thing secreted
during such late nights
when she found herself alone.
70 · Jul 2020
Remaining Embers
Ron Jul 2020
On the hills of a slaying darkness,
I hear still my lost lover’s roar.
light and sad, with grief transparent,
my melancholy fills with you.
You, and you alone, my sorrow,
Still untouched and unmoved.
My heart flames again, and loves,
for then what else could it do?
70 · Sep 2020
Tall Grass
Ron Sep 2020
I see you,
Shaking your flowers at me
with open invitation,
Then dancing away,
Deliciously trampling the grass,
Beneath your naked toes.

Let be,
My dreams that shiver under your breath,
You have the rest of the world to breathe on,
Do not tease me and prance away looking back,
I am too weary to play with you,
Let us instead make slow love,
Here in the tall grass.
70 · Aug 2020
Favors
Ron Aug 2020
He asked her for a short cut,
she showed him the way.
He asked her for some water,
She drew for him a shower.
He thanked her for such kindness,
She returned him her smile.
All night she then sighed
scarlet cries like flowers.
Her longing unrequited
In the morning’s quiet hour
70 · Nov 2020
Cost
Ron Nov 2020
Piece by piece
I know despair in the form of love
I know to wander as a homeless dove
before the horizon ever has its fill

In the wind I still believe
To preserve our story
in the whispered breeze
I believe in the warming sun
soft on a silken head
in naked love in times of peace
70 · Jan 20
Long Lost
Ron Jan 20
My messy room floods,
In conjunction with the moon,
light passes through my window,
On the sounds of my swoon.

The cat avoids the hollow,
Drafts within the wall,
Where you can hear the gasp,
Of the cold air rushing past.

As the eve comes undone,
Past the back porch light,
love has wandered lost now,
for many a long year.
68 · Jul 2020
Hunger
Ron Jul 2020
I’ve just held you up to offer my hand,
And cannot help my weeping to see you wander.
Even leftovers leave to appease the nights hunger.
I will await your return with empty stomach.
68 · Jun 2020
Wishing Trees
Ron Jun 2020
Sometimes I wish for a tangerine tree
So that I could undress the fruit
like a lover, spontaneously

Sometimes I wish for an apple tree
So I could view the fruit as a friend
without need to peel, or pretend.

But mostly I wish for a walnut tree,
so other nuts could drop at my feet,
and have conversations with me!
67 · Jun 2020
Lifes Garden
Ron Jun 2020
If you have a moment let me tell you the shortest story,
about arriving at a lovely but lonely place,
the garden of thoughts that thrive in my mind.
My lawn of wildflowers, my shimmering trees,
loving the wind as they sway in the breeze.
Portraits hung on sun-gold walls in rooms clothed with shades of green,
an open-air kitchen to tease the senses with fragrant steam.
These my accessories of a genuine summers dream,
some years ago, before,
when I was somebody, someone’s friend,
someone’s lover, with much to show.
Was a young man then, with much of life yet to discover,
As my hands took from life’s garden the harvest of summer.
I could make light bread and serve it to those I loved,
This at a large table, draped with a cloth the color of sun.
In life’s garden I was found, and loved. My eggplant shone like polished wood,
My tomatoes smelled like their furry stems, zucchini scattered haphazardly,
Tiny teacups lined up on the counter, keeping watch for the sugar tree.
Onions round and plump, lording over their minions of garlic and chive,
some wine of love in a vibrant garden of earthly delight.
And into this very sunny story, many years later, I by myself came back,
having been beaten and blinded by the rigors of life,
and there waited for my dream to return me my sight.
I walked into the lawn, waist-high with colors of orange and pink, yellow and green,
fragrant lilacs swaying purple, the subject of a June’s afternoon delight.
My kitchen there, waiting for my bread of life,
to release the scent of ripe peaches, pepper and spice.
There I was back in my garden a displaced man with gray streaked hair,
with no place to which I wished to return, and no one,
to gather me into their arms when I got there.
No one to love me but the sun and the air.
That day life’s garden received me, and though not real,
I loved it greatly all the same, because it seemed all I had left.
And in that same manner I have learned to love much of the world
Since my absence in life’s garden.
Who is to say if I have less reason to live, or more to love,
Than any other whose life has yet begun,
Who is to say that my garden is not real,
Who is to say?
67 · Jul 2020
Hard Frost
Ron Jul 2020
Life’s regrets and failures,
Have formed as frost on my forehead.
No longer do I have the body
To take me where my springs have led.
Why then do I need to go?
67 · Jul 2020
Integrity Falls
Ron Jul 2020
There goes that fleeting loyalty
where goes those selfish whims,
Where I the autumn leaves
I would fear most the wind
66 · Jun 2020
Fading Light
Ron Jun 2020
Much feeling in my heart
but it's just as if there's none,
Twice I think this
behind my window
but still only smile as one,
The light has a heart
and it too hates parting.
At my window,
the light sheds tears at dusk.
66 · May 2020
Tears
Ron May 2020
Such tears of despair,
The sounds of a poet,
are silently shed.

Ah, but what of despair…
Those sad soundless screams
of poetry forgotten.
66 · Jun 2020
Dragonfly Dreams
Ron Jun 2020
I found a fairy on a yellow rose along a silver stream.
The rose must surely dream I said,
to raise an emerald leaf, and have you lay within its bud,
to touch and taste your sweet.
This budding bloom she did reply, this slender flower with its dew,
all memories of the rain its blushing petals hold within,
so now this lovely rose and I,
Today we dream for two.

What of the rain I did reply, do drops of rain fall down in dreams?
Happy to leave their cloudy sky?
The rain she says in its defense, makes pools where poppies drown,
They float upon this silver stream to enter a land of flower dreams,
where all our fancies sprout and spring,
Only to return again next year to sing the lyrics of the trees,
And give the bees their buzzy sound.

The fairy stretched her gossamer wings and caused the blooms to blush.
Why must you ask such trivial things,
in delicious moments such as these?
Your questions they are all remote,
and cause the ladybugs to sneeze.
The mystery now I put to you, as a hush fell over the trees
Is have you now, or have you ever
Dreamt a dragonfly dream?
66 · Aug 2020
Drowning in Dreams
Ron Aug 2020
Once, while sharing some wine,
On the tranquil banks of a silent lake,
I asked someone what romance was.
And they told me she was a lone woman,
in flowing gold robes,
smoking a joint upon still listless waters.
Dreaming amid her silver ropes of haze,
she was beautiful and lovely melancholy,
in the evening of a summer's fun folly,
all enveloped by the light of the moon.

Much later my admiring sigh,
travelled across the water
to her still waiting form,
and shattered her silence too soon.

So I stayed up all night,
to search for that moon,
the night sky's only living daughter.
Unaware that my affection,
was aimed only at a reflection,
that my romance had been lost,
in the water.
65 · Sep 2020
Tenacity
Ron Sep 2020
Cut'em apart, still intact,
Tidy'm up, still they crack,
Those lives in separation,
A tiny taste of desolation
65 · Sep 2020
Forgotten Title
Ron Sep 2020
Walking along a hidden path,
I find a footprint in the sand,
A low white cloud rests quiet on a lake,
Sweetgrass slows my idle pace,
A tree grown greener within the rain,
A stream flows quiet from a sacred source,
Mingling unnoticed with truth among flowers,
It seems I have forgotten what words to say.
65 · Jun 2020
Joy
Ron Jun 2020
Joy
Midnight dancing
         starlight blinds me

Dancing, in my madness
         Of my love for her

On my knees, with my voice
         I kiss her hands

I will shout; sing words of song,
        Of light for her

I will cry; I give up my words,
         grow wings instead

We will fly like the breeze,
         when we fly,

To the moon, skin drenched rain,
         softened clouds,

The skies opening, as you,
          as we drift there,

                 Come in! they cry!
We love you too!

I will love her, kiss her knees,
                 with my words,

Enter her mind, her eyes,
         her lips,

like the lost lovers,
of us all.
64 · Jul 2020
Tenant
Ron Jul 2020
The pale heavens of the universe
refute a good morning to her
neither do the sky-punched stars
bother with an evening’s kiss.
This earth, where so many memories,
Among fine sentiments are buried,
could die in need of tender glance,
A cordial comment, or a little peace.
This damp blue ball is lonely,
so very lonely, as she views
the moon's cold cratered clothing,
while accusing the sun of being a thief.
It is a hot sun burning bright,
with many photons un-leased
in an attempt to pacify this earth
as the only living renter it keeps.
64 · Oct 2020
One Night Stand
Ron Oct 2020
I am blind in your eyes,
Pupils enameled hard,
against your glow.
When moonlight grace,
through treetops trace,
Our hearts then twined
still shine dark within our souls.
You are elusive as perfume,
a wavering gust of wind,
Not long will you remember me,
Nor those secret places I have been.

I am a solitary light in your sight,
a shadow short marked
for our rapturous flight.
I cannot ask,
for the cast of your body.
I cannot ask for the taste,
of your tongue.
You leave me from under the sheet,
your dark eyes drinking me in.
Now alone and awake I lay there,
Tangled damp in the silk of our sin.
64 · Nov 2020
Seeing Red
Ron Nov 2020
People on the screen
Are murdering one another
while I remain just the same
Maybe even a little bored
unaware my minds eye
Now bleeds blood red
63 · May 2020
Memory Damage
Ron May 2020
Exiled from my own home, I walk through
A lattice of shadows in the hushed rooms.
No one speaks, but in that emptiness, I sometimes hear
The sticky vernacular of the unreal.

The scents that used to wisp around me when she passed,
Gardenia on an evening out,
are but memories past pleasant now,
Ethereal butterflies gone back to their cocoons.

Nothing relents: I deal with the damage
to my downspouts, drainpipes, the kitchen sink.
One more hard storm and I’ll be drilling weep holes
In the basement walls to let the stink out.
63 · Dec 2020
Visitors Rights
Ron Dec 2020
Well, so long and thank you
for consenting to this visit
by the mortal life of a forlorn man
traveling outcast with only
his wicked beating heart.
Is an abject heart you understand?
Bright red frailty now bled clear,
to let you peer within,
my stained and ***** past-life

Still, may we converse a while?
Let us live within this day,
exchange a few words, shall we say.
Share some wine, taste some cheese.
If only for you to hear,
my lightly murmured pleas.
My heart would then be slightly healed,
Because fondly then could I say
Yes, truly was I here.
63 · Jun 2020
Present Tense
Ron Jun 2020
I come from a long line
of moments in history,
each one a bit more weary
than the one before.
Words all a-wander
Lost in dark pools of lace
No thoughts, no ties,
For I have cut
Both men and gods
Out of my life.
62 · Jul 2020
Growing
Ron Jul 2020
Today I ignored
This stale old world
To better refresh my garden
62 · Jul 2020
Regret
Ron Jul 2020
Regret has no business interfering with a person's life,
as if one could change the past by spending the future dwelling on it.
Were it not for regret,
the present might be a much more pleasant place to live,
allowing one to look forward to the future with optimism,
rather than hesitation.
Regret is useless to all but the person using it and deserving or not,
is nothing more than the disguised past tense of guilt.
Regret is a selfish act.
62 · Sep 2020
Fire
Ron Sep 2020
Boundless tall grass that carpet the land,
Will come and go with every season,
Wildfire tries but can’t consume them,
In the new spring wind yet still they stand,
Thickly pressed on the roadside edge,
Winding their way to the forest line,
Prince of fire, you'll flame up again,
I'll hear the tall grass whisper after you.
61 · Aug 2020
Strawberry Songs
Ron Aug 2020
Concrete now the farmers field,
where we once played together,
Picking warm red strawberries in the sun.  
Here, where we used to search,
for the power of words and ancient mages,
Your tablet of poems diffuse peace to my pocket.
The wind has torn it and the rain has beaten,
Through the frayed binding and tattered pages,
Seeking new life upon those words you wrote.
Yet still I trace your strawberry scented breath,
Well preserved in your long past pen strokes,
Evocative memories of the Strawberry Songs,"
found within the tears with which you wrote.
I go now in further quest of words,
and warm ripe strawberries in the sun.
61 · Jun 2020
Compulsions
Ron Jun 2020
The orifice of my mouth
compels a tempting desire
To speak in the words
Of a thousand tongues
But I will refrain,
And instead give in
To my overwhelming desire
To eavesdrop,
On the conversations
of books.
61 · Jul 2020
Death of a Daisy
Ron Jul 2020
Time travels deep amidst you earthly lot,
Are you yet so earthly to be tranquil and free,
From the madding crowds thronging the streets?
What's that?
Your ethereal existence transcends the worldly?
I spot a child picking daisies beyond the roadside edge,
Looking up, perchance she caught sight of me.
Behold the beauty of her daisy’s death,
There is much truth in her reality,
And yet still, I find no better words to explain it.
Then tranquil, earthly and free.
60 · Sep 2020
Good Growth is Needed
Ron Sep 2020
To the antiquated assembly,
of so-called leaders,
In this, the modern world.
I say go forth and pray,
For a healing rain,
To cleanse and disperse,
the blight of corruption,
Rooted fast and deep,
in the soil of ignorance.
And soak the mind's field,
For the best of living beings,
There where good grasses,
Now struggle to grow.
60 · May 2020
Plainly Stated
Ron May 2020
I don't think answers should be doled out by popularity,
or even by the general masses huddled within the light,
But by those of us with an individuality,

i am not lost, not anymore,
i have not found freedom,
but am working hard,
toward that end,
and right.
60 · Sep 2020
Going Home
Ron Sep 2020
As my years went by, I begged for peace,
Freedom from many hundreds of burdens.
I asked you once and received no answer:
What could be better than going home?
A wind from the future blows my curtain,
And my eyes are bright with the evening moon.
You asked me once about good and evil,
Listen for my singing, I’ll be home soon.
60 · Jul 2020
Empathetic Rest
Ron Jul 2020
Those days long gone,
Of my life’s living empathy
are like tranquil pools,
clear liquid jewels,
in a forest green where,
my shadow haunted dips his hand,
and cools his fevered head.
As too, the warm moist air,
Comes blowing softly,
upon his heaving breast,
Hinting but lightly,
at the sacred mystery of rest.
60 · Nov 2024
An Early Fall
Ron Nov 2024
Evening enters early now, under miles of cloudy skies,
Blue eyes a silent vigil, to rain falling to the ground.

Water falling steady, within its millennial sound,
In these darkened times I bear witness to it's cry.

Far away on a cold mountain, a darkened road slants steep,
In rainy clouds is a village, where people rest their feet.

I stop to smell deep of the dampened maple wood
Whose frosted leaves are redder than a month of summer flowers.

By my first strange and fatal view
By my desires which then did ensue
By my long starving hopes, that remorse
Coerced my words with a persuasive force
Whose beauty of fall now surge and then feed
Now trapped within the silence of leaves.
60 · May 2020
Fair(y) Warning
Ron May 2020
While I was wandering
lost in the cold
A little blue fairy
flew up and spoke to me:

"There may be danger
in a heart made of stone"

"Yes, I know I replied
Weird sounds
Have been floating around
in my thoughts all day”

"I really don't know
What may be found".
"Perhaps the ghost of my hope
Has been living underground".

"Yes, says the fairy
weird creatures those,
I've lately seen them creeping
through darkness all alone"

And with that warning
the fairy flew away.
59 · Jun 2020
Missing
Ron Jun 2020
What you don't know
is that when I’m walking
thoughtful and alone
to cross a busy street
I sometimes start to reach
my hand out for you
As if you were still here
59 · Sep 2020
Moonlight Message
Ron Sep 2020
The moon grown full in my distant sight,
Turns cool blue the damp dark earth,
Bringing still to those separated hearts,
The long thoughtfulness of the night.
It is no darker now though I turn out my light.
It is no warmer now though I pull up my cover.
So I’ll leave my message with the moon,
And turn late to my bed yet dreaming of you.
59 · Aug 2020
Remembrance
Ron Aug 2020
I cannot speak of those days,
when fresh coffee scent began to float,
filling the morning air with hope,
when our sons' childish laughter,
hung like musical notes on currents of air.
Let us not speak of the glowing arms of sky,
that used to capture us at dusk,
And oh, the live oaks let us not trace,
Their spreading branches clothed in leaves,
They giving us shelter in our dreams,
or yearn for the noise of a colorful bird,
that treated us with humors ease.
Let us not remember the first smell of rain,
Instead, I can only think of now,
In the present of past lives lost to me.  
I might consider remembering them,
With the glowing sky and coffee beans,
in shaded houses on sunny streets.
Might I then set my memory afloat,,
like a paper boat down a river.
I could ask that paper please,
whisper our story to the water,
that the water sing it to the trees,
for the trees to shake and shiver,
at pleasure through their leaves.
If I keep still and do not speak,
I might hear our whole life past,
Remove my presence from this void,
until the wind is the only word heard.
59 · Aug 2020
The Color of Rain
Ron Aug 2020
Through the windows of a passing train,
dawn rain darkens lighter green,
this sudden color of the rain,
In passing fields revived,
Gives me urge to swelling surge,
A salty rain within my eye.
59 · Jul 2020
Wind and Rain
Ron Jul 2020
Out of a universe of things,
Only two,
Give me any measure of peace,
The rain,
That shuts you out,
And wind,
That bears me away.
58 · Jul 2020
Sojourn
Ron Jul 2020
Once a small child now an old man.
White hairs to match the child’s down.
Easy the heart gets hurt by life.
Slowly now the urge to move,
Beyond the closing doors,
Where then all craving ends.
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