Ron Stock

Veteran Poet - 1,345 Points (4-19-1944 / Saginaw, Michigan)

Ron Stock Poems

1. Miss Spelling’s Be 4/14/2015
2. No Ordinary Laughing Cowboy He 6/10/2015
3. No One Loses Love That Isn't There 8/24/2016
4. A Love Poem For Endangered Species 8/24/2016
5. For A Few Hours We Were All The Same 8/24/2016
6. Do Not Become Attached Nor Afraid 8/24/2016
7. A Super Dull Pin Survives A Passionate Fantasy 8/24/2016
8. Exploring The Dark Side Of The Garden Of Eden 8/25/2016
9. The Unforgivable Sins Of Sodom And Gomorrah 8/25/2016
10. My Dysfunctional Baggage Clearance Sale 8/25/2016
11. An Old Rosewood Cane 8/25/2016
12. Bullies Of A Feather Fly Together 8/25/2016
13. Grampa Made A Boo Boo 8/27/2016
14. Answering The Call Of A Ghost 8/27/2016
15. A Silly Little Rhyming Love Poem (For Melody) 8/27/2016
16. Charles Darwin Was Jesus Christ Incarnate 8/27/2016
17. It's Never Too Late 8/27/2016
18. Marbles And Blood On A Black Stallion 8/29/2016
19. Sailing Under The Big Dipper To Zihuatanejo 8/29/2016
20. Puffy White And Hazy Gray Clouds Float 8/29/2016
21. Beethoven's Seventh Symphony In Tingling Glass Shards 9/4/2016
22. God Certainly Has An Odd Sense Of Humor 9/5/2016
23. Dancing With The Mafia On A Monday Afternoon 9/5/2016
24. Battling For My Sanity On The Insanity Ferry 9/8/2016
25. The Odoriferous, Visionary Life Of Carol Love 9/8/2016
26. Homo Sapiens Last Stand 9/14/2016
27. Dog Paddling With Chief Daddy's Indian Blood 9/14/2016
28. The Author Is Standing In Front Of You 1/20/2017
29. Shipwrecked Vowels 4/5/2015
30. Ballad Of Big Shot Bobby 4/8/2015
31. Religion Is God's Poison 4/12/2015
32. You Don't Gotta Go To No God-Damn School To Be A Poet 4/13/2015

Comments about Ron Stock

There is no comment submitted by members..
Best Poem of Ron Stock

You Don't Gotta Go To No God-Damn School To Be A Poet

My best friend of forty-five years died not too long ago
and like the fool I used to be I reacted with machismo.
I was building a home on a mesa of wild rabbits and sage,
thinking about my pal I was depressed, angry, in a rage.
I climbed near the top of a ten-foot ladder in this crummy mood,
afraid those feelings of my old friend's death might intrude
on my thoughts as I hammered a nail into a piece of soffit wood
and lost my precious balance as a man possessed of death should.
The ladder fell away, my left boot caught, the eyelet hooked, ...

Read the full of You Don't Gotta Go To No God-Damn School To Be A Poet

An Old Rosewood Cane

1947. The sky was blue, the sun hot, the clouds white, the water cool.

Short, squat, Dr. Chicky,71, was sitting on a beach of fine white sand, on the shoreline of Lake Huron, in Michigan, his body lightly tanned, as he sipped mint tea, read exotic passages from a D. H. Lawrence book, and occasionally thought of the accident, and the driver who almost took his life, and left, in fact, both legs, from ankles to thighs, in solid plaster casts. Now, he hobbled around with two old rosewood canes

[Report Error]