Biography of Ron Poetry
Ron Poetry Poems
Shes My Rib..
Why did God create Woman from Man's rib, when He could have simply created her from dust, as He did Man? This is a story that puts a beautiful touch on the reasoning:
If she's the one you love and trust, Who lives within your heart, Then cherish her, for this you must, Your true love to impart.
A Son Becomes A Father
How does a father tell his son he loves him? That he’s number one? How does son see father now, when all that’s been could well be done? How do these two fellas mark the special things that each has felt? How will life turn out to be? Have all the cards been dealt?
This is my Harlem... Live corpses wander littered sidewalks Shoeless, clueless, toothless and tired... The refuse of a city built on broken promises.
Empty House/ Empty Heart
An empty heart is like an empty house... Even when they've moved on.... There remains something, indefinable and invaluable, left behind in an empty house; once the boxes are packed and sealed, the trucks loaded, the tedious inventory and heavy hauling halted, the obligatory labor dutifully fulfilled,
Being A Black Male....In 2012
Invisible Battlefield There's a war that rages daily With many a battle fought And it seems that no one really Understands the foe named 'thought'... Pastor.. He seems so small and passive Sometimes he's good and kind But his evil can be massive As war wages in our mind..
3 KINGS.. MALCOLM X Forty years have come and gone since that cruel and fateful day.. Hardened hearts grow soft this day and age In some ways life is better, in others life is worse.. While on ghetto avenues he's earned a special place to carry his name.. Justice still eludes too many in this land so great Seeds of corruption growing with no end.. The backs of "COLORED FOLKS" carry most the weight worked beyond endurance, a message they now send to the next generation clean the corruption within your race..before it's too late.... For in the hands of 'We the people", lay a nations fate....
I Am A Diamond...
I AM A DIAMOND.. I am a diamond in the rough. I don't care whether or not you believe in that stuff. One way or another, I shall triumph over adversity; My work will be read by people in and beyond Dublin City. With all possible effort, I will certainly become a writer Because I persistently declare myself a strong fighter. Despite a hard life, it is I who'll stand out from the crowd; I will not be ranked as low as a corpse in a shroud. Even in depressing times of loneliness, I stay at home Where I express my true talent in the form of a poem. I listen to no one but myself, most certainly not a bully, Because they simply will never understand fully That I am just a diamond in the rough And that the notion of quitting just isn't good enough.... SHE IS THAT DIAMOND... Have you seen her hands, knurled and crooked with age? Translucent skin accenting blue-black veins; White tendon cords contrasting through the spots Of dark-brown on the backs of her old hands? They had been once the strength of our household. They molded us into a family core. The mastic of their love had bound that core, Performing endless tasks, when young of age. Without apparent weariness, household Concerns were done, while only shadowed veins Conveyed fatigue beneath her eyes. Her hands, Saw all the dabs and daubs, all dirty spots. They dusted, swept and scrubbed unwanted spots. No motion lost in their intent when core Of principle involved. Persuasive hands In their resolve. Yet, in my tender age Of childhood ills, before those blue-black veins, Their touch appeased and stilled the whole household. The home was left, no thought for such household Labor, when fever, with those itching spots, Had pulsed with heated flow, throughout my veins. Medicinal was their caress, the core Of youthful convalescence. Restive age Has slowed the winging of those birdlike hands.
Ella & Lena
In my dreams there was this pond, with those lilies I do, because I fell in trying to get one for you... You laugh that sweet little laugh But now I cry on that mound of dirt
Message Of Promise To My Children..
My child as you go into adulthood you will find advice comes cheap, Yet I offer this, never make a promise that's questionable you'll keep. The world can only rely upon your word while God knows your heart, Therefore anyone who would try to fool Him is far from being smart. LAURYN....
POETIC ECSTASY.. A poem too can be sensual or sexual according to the way we read it.. I write it upon your urging, you say you're lonely and you have no one near to comfort you and wonder if my words can fill that void....You feel vacant, blank and empty.. You are crying behind your eyes hiding tears inside...You express a need. I express a want. I am silent too. I know when to stand and when to sit upon your gentle command. You ask for a poem about love. I write it... You want something harder. You want me to write the dance of forbidden lust. I comply.
2012 SLAVE MIND Expression used for people surrounded by confusion living in a vicious circle Of lies and illusions.. They hunger for prestige and luxury And thirst for higher society while creating a bubbled reality floating over society's misery...
Sun Has Sound We Never Hear
If she's the one you love and trust,
Who lives within your heart,
Then cherish her, for this you must,
Your true love to impart.
For love compels us to respond
To all we're meant to be,
Not just today, but far beyond,
For all eternity....
That's why God wants us at our best, Not coasting throughout life...