The Poet

The Poet

Monday, December 26, 2016

Sealed And Locked By Ronald S Porter ©2016

Arms to wrap me around
laughter to thrill my heart with sound
Soft strong hands to caress my face,
I miss these things and strive to not.
The door I locked, the cell I've sealed
where all unfulfilled desires live.
these things are fled and gone
and, it's foolish, for them, to long.
They are not to come again
and, I've no time for foolery

A Seafaring Metaphor by Ronald S Porter ©2016

What a pair the two of us made;
What a pretty couple, you and me.
We built a ship, designed to sink, then
Set sail to an uncertain destination, 
upon an unknown, uncharted, sea.
True love made a poor guiding star;
Neither were faithfulness or devotion.
Lost together in endless aloneness, 
Drifting across an unnamed ocean

Fine Arts by Ronald S Porter ©2016

I wanted to do 
a pencil sketch of you
from images in memory
and found me 
asking myself
how can one draw
a soul rhapsody
What border lines
what cross stitch shading
illustrates heart felt blues
embedded deep in memory
you were always the poem
that I could not write
And how do I begin
to draw poetry

Like A River by Ron Porter ©2016

Years have flowed past like a river;
A rushing stream of happenstance.
Some few things turned out as planned.
A great many came by chance.
Both angels and devils, I heard call
And, I rise again each time I fall.
Somehow, as I look back on it all,
love looms large; the hurts seem small.

Break Time Is Over by Ronald S Porter ©2016

All the revenging angels 
went out on break;
Retribution flirts with 
the girl at the coat check.
The hangman's noose droops, 
slack and loose,
While the shroud tailor 
measures inseam and neck.
The Reaper grimly 
mounts his skeletal steed,
And brings it about, 
with the reins' quick jerk.
Lucifer yells, 
his voice booming thru the hells,
Break time is over, 
get your lazy asses back to work!

It Doesn't Work by Ronald S Porter ©2016

I committed to not love again;
Not because of anger and hurt,
but simply because it doesn't work
A broken clock is right twice a day
And, a car with a failing engine can
still motor from point A to B.  
A broken heart is a kind of machine
which only manufactures misery.
Even when the suffering has gone,
The heart remains in jagged pieces.
And the miracle process that turns
Love into joy and pleasure ceases.
So, I just don't bother with love
Anymore; it simply doesn't work.

Go Down Moses by Ronald S Porter ©2016

Oh, the rumble of chariots,
Through standing walls of water, 
to safety, run the recent slaves.
The great I Am, the cloud and fire,
sets free the walls; looses the waves.
Pharaoh's army weighed down with
weapons of war, find watery graves.
Miriam strikes her tambourine and, 
sings and, dances on the far bank
A psalm of victory, a freedom song;
deliverance on the morning shore.

Lurking Darkness ( I Am With You) by Ron Porter ©2016

The rain comes down on broken streets
and, footsteps echo in the night behind.
I, the lurking darkness, linger in
your memories of a different time,
like the forsaken embrace of love
that vanished up a hole in a vein, or
the click and clack of high heeled shoes.

I am the fading sound that lurks
in the corners of short-term hotel rooms
and the stale gin breath of low rent whores
who ply their trade out on Morgan Street.

And you see my face darkly reflected
at the bottom of your whiskey glass,
And, breathe in the stench of my decay
in the alley ways down on dealers row.

You can hear my soundless voice
attacking your glutted ears from
bar room jukeboxes and cheap radios
and, the lunatic laughter from 
toothless meth addled waitresses
in glare lit all night greasy spoons
Want a top off on that coffee, hon?

And, you want to truly be rid of me
but, you just can't let me go. 
I am always with you in darkness;
In lurking darkness; I am always there

I Made Myth-Takes In Love by Ronald S Porter ©2016

Heracles had his twelve intractable labors
Seven arduous voyages, Sinbad had.
Myself, I had four wives in turn, 
more than enough to drive a man mad.
The first  was the Erinyes unleashed;
O, how her words did fly and flay.
The second, a Harpy, who fed on my soul. 
Tearing it from my core each day,
To regrow, as I slept each night, complete.
With each new morning, again she would eat.
Number three, like Euripides, slipped away
Nor could I ever lead her back but,
left her locked in the cold deep dark,
and so I felt my hurting heart bleed;
Happily, when I departed, she was freed.
Ah, by the last, she remains a mystery;
First she loved fiercely, then she was gone.
I lie awake late at night, abed and alone,
And think she turned Medusa's gaze
upon my heart and, turned it to stone.

Out Of Africa, Exodus To Diaspora by Ron Porter ©2016

fiery chariots try the sky
none of them swing low
like other tribes long ago
we wandered and we wondered
forty years? four hundred
but it does not matter
all wilderness is barren
empty hard and cold
a million ways to day
yet no way to live
we followed the drinking gourd
in the land of promised hope
we found freedom chained
and on the willows by
the rivers of babylon
we hung our harps
hung our hearts
hung our heads and wept
Oh son of man tell me
can these bones live again

Monday, September 26, 2016

A Long Time Coming by Ron Porter; Monday September 26, 2016

Hello Friends,

It has been a long time. It has been much too long since my last update. The chief reason for the lengthy break is a dearth of new material. I have not been writing nearly as much as I used to and; many of the poets I know ceased writing new poetry entirely. I am hopeful that in the future I will be able to update once a month. I don't know if I will ever be able to get back to a two week schedule. I will do my best. In the mean time, enjoy.  Oh , and be sure to check out pages 2,3 and 4.

Nonesuch by Ron Porter ©2016

Rock and reel
Lemon peel
Banana shoeshine in the sun.
Belly to belly; Shakin’ yo’ jelly;
Tell me I’m the only one.
In the alley with Sally,
Behind the trees with Louise,
In the parlor with Darla.
Shake it don’t break it
wrap it up and
keep it fresh for later;
Oh yeah!

Soft and Easy by Ronald S Porter ©2016

I got cool blues
soft and easy
washing all over me
a saxophone laughing
the solo warm and tender
piano notes that fall
tinkling like drops of rain
ringing on windowpanes
and the indigo diva sings
Gee baby, ain’t I good to you?
elegant, eloquent and pure
guitar strings teach rhythm
and we float
like dandelion wishes
and sway like slender
willow trees
step light and smooth
like sliding across
marble floors in satin shoes
sway with me baby, baby
soft and easy
you know I got me
some real cool blues.

Images by Ronald S Porter ©2016

Shadows of wolves in the midnight moonlight;
The lunatic laughs, hidden high in the trees.
In the campfire glow, she sways on her knees
Flames reflect in her glimmering cat eyes
her body in movement as supple as a snake.
The gold gilded idol looms, a large yet hollow shell.
The prince of thieves, with his dark dagger, pries
The glowing sacred jewels from the statues eyes.
Drum beats throb like blood rushing through the vein;
Who is the madman when everyone is insane?
The keep of the fire looks to the east
and waits for the moment the sun will rise.

Slowly Ronald S Porter ©2016

Slowly. We drifted apart slowly
when we were not looking
Slowly we came to realize how
Slowly the distance between us had grown
like an acorn becomes a tree
or a winter’s snow melt
feed a river ab finally reach the sea
Slowly we understood the love we’d known
had melted, flowed, and now was gone
There’s nothing left to hold us
to each other; our time has flown
leaving now, I know exactly how
it all come to an end... it came slowly.

Maybe by Ronald S Porter ©2016

Maybe your love for me has faded, maybe
it’s getting to be the time for me to go
Maybe all the passions have been sated
I guess but I just don’t know
You keep on treating me like dirt
Again and again I end up hurt
I swear I will never love again
then return to my folly like a fool
maybe I’ll meet another woman and
before your side of the bed is cool
I’m giving away the heart just broken
to another as the last goodbye is spoken
maybe love just don’t love me maybe
my whole heart I should stop giving
Maybe I’ll never find the love I seek
Maybe the search makes life worth living.

Waking On A Rainy Morning by Ron Porter ©2016

the snooze alarm keeps on alarming
and I hit the button repeatedly
like a man not answering to telephone
calls from a spurned ex-lover
nestled in my blanket warmth
hidden in dim early light
of the overcast gloomy day, I lay
contented in semi-wakefulness i attend
to the sound of distant thunder and
the pitter patter pattern of falling rain

Confusion Rains by Ron Porter ©2016

Saturday night; I have Monday morning blues
under summer blue skies, it’s winter inside
My pride is but an artifact of long time ago
before love conquered  and brought me low
And, my heart is a sacked city laid to ruin by
the deprivation and devastation left in the ashes;
So I have left, hours out of order;
I have seasons out of time.
Tomorrows echoes ring in the hollows of my soul
Yesteryears’ music sounds in my ears like a shout
Gone - both storm and calm; everything is nothing
I wonder who understands what I’m talking about

No Room by Ronald S Porter ©2016

cool breeze
twilight bird song
lay down
at the threshold
the burdens of the day
smell the night
forest pine
wood fire smoke
magnolia incense
in the temple of the night
crickets wake and chirp
tinkling wind chimes ring
far away and lonesome
the whistle of a train
slow rhythm of
the front porch swing
no, ain’t no room here
for the burdens of the day

Talking ‘Bout My Generation by Ronald Porter ©2016

I lay awake, at night, remembering
cleavage nights and bar-be-que
hips and lips and fingertips
burned like tabasco and kerosene
and the girls were garbed like flowers
the boys like peacocks with fancy shoes
rolling the rock and drinking blues
Nobody was getting any younger
but I hear, you’re only as old as you feel
life was a big warn chicken casserole
comfort food; yummy, and spiced just right
and we feasted as if on a holiday meal

Dante’s Standup Comedy by Ron Porter ©2016

Oh! You were a poem only
heaven or hell could write
I can not guess at which
you took Eve’s fruit and
never offered me a bite
A hard but not killing blow
I already knew all I need to know
about the divine comedy and profane
tragedy of Cassandra doomed to see
so clearly yet, be thought insane
good from evil I do discern
right from left I can tell
wrong and right I could not learn
Heavenly choirs? The hordes of hell?
which will rise; what shall burn?
Who can say what dawn will bring
 You were a poem no man could write
You were a song I could not sing.

Monday, June 6, 2016

Coolness by Ronald Porter ©2016

The room was dim and steamy in
The swelter of humid August heat;
The air redolent of passion sweet,
sweat and,
English Lavender perfume
and, wafting through the screen
of the half opened window
coolness came softly
like a nightingale's song
riding upon the early evening wind

Another Simple Rhyme by Ronald S Porter ©2016

give me an hour
to find a minute
to tell you about my day

you hold a flower
and idly spin it
and listen to all I say

the day was sour
and everything in it
sometimes it’s just that way

you have the power
to flip it and spin it
come on baby, let’s play.

Just A Bit Of Nonsense by Ronald S Porter ©2016

I cast my bread upon the water.
I cast my net into the sea.
I cast a copper image my love
and, my love cast her eye on me.
The cast bowed for the ovation.
My fate, I cast it, to the wind.
My arm was broken for a cast of dice.
My love said A cast will help it mend.
The sky was dark and overcast.
I heard the broadcast about the weather.
No longer downcast, I shout for joy
For my love and I cast our lot together.

in the empty by Ronald S Porter ©2016

i sense fragrance
of your hair-you’re not there
you won’t be coming back

so bright was day
til you took the sun
the world is draped in black

once there was joyous sound
you sang and danced around
you danced so hard walls would shake

now dead and still
in the empty you left behind
i hear my heart crack and break

Strive Forward by Ronald S Porter ©2016

Tears, fears and wasted years
I thought would forever last
the games, blame, all the shame
I left in the past.

Scores of soul aches, hordes of heartbreaks
Now only live in memory
They taught a lesson I learned well.
They no longer torment me.

Past is over; done is done.
Today, i see bright future’s gleam.
With my heart fully assured,
I strive forward toward my dream.

The White Man’s Burden by Ronald S Porter ©2016

O, I’ve been to see the elephant
and, stood at heaven’s door;
Wrote Rubaiyats in Omar’s tent,
along the old Aegean shore

I’ve seen the hungry eyes of tigers;
In the night, heard the butterfly’s roar.
All that I could do in response,
was cry out More! Give me more!

I watched the English regiment
slaughter heathens for Queen and gin.
As whirling dervishes twirled and swirled,
the wheel of fate did spin.

And officer cradled the water boy
and, said with an ironic grin,
Tho’ I gave ye hell, you served so well.
Ye’re a deader man than I am, Gunga Din.

Just For A Lark by Ronald S Porter ©2016

Sometimes, at night, just for a lark, 
I go and stalk them in the dark.
How they glower! But their only power
is to torment minds with the phony terror
they were created to inspire.
But, you see, my mind is sharp and clear
tried in the blood, I've been tested in fire,
molded, tempered, purified of fear.
Monsters frighten most folks I guess,
fearful to imagine; terrible to see.
But, I've fought; I've defeated so many demons
that now, the monsters are scared of me.

Resolution by Ronald S Porter ©2016

I gave my lover a chocolate spider;
She put it in the ice box, right beside her;
Then fed some lox to her little frog
while over the bog, came creeping , the fog.
Old blind Jesse looked to the west;
He said to me
Son, it’s all in vain
to hold and nurture your past hurts.
You hold and nurture them like treasure;
don't weigh regret boy, measure the pleasure.
Do you think it looks like rain?

Ragged ravens rose from the wishing tree;
My lover came and sat on my knee.
In that moment I knew all my hoarded pain
could be melted away by the magic inside her.

She laughed Where’d you get a chocolate spider?
I saw the promise twinkle in her eye
So, I gave my lover a marzipan fly.

Play Band, Play! by Ronald S Porter ©2016

Hear the high tinkle like
the staccato fall of raindrops
on an old down-home tin roof
Piano Man, play me a storm
of low notes rumbling

like far off thunder in the night

Like the brazen war cry sounding,
the fanfare of heaven’s hosts,
Blow like Gabriel’s assembly call
Come on trumpet man, play that horn!

Like a lumberjack swinging rhythm

steady, until the drop of the tree,
As bassline beats and drums beat back
Come! Guitar player, swing that axe

Soft and seductive as a contented woman;
Sad, sorrowful; mournful as a wake;
Smooth and sinuous like a snake.
Oh tenor sax caress my ears.

Play a smile upon my face.
Play away the strain of the daily race.
Speak by music what my heart can’t say.
Chase my woe and worry away;
No words needed; just play band, play!

No Traveller Returns by Ronald S Porter ©2016

You were my cloak of loneliness, a shield against  my fear.
You shed no tear, defied the urge to weep, despite the pain.
I was always a bit insecure so, I wrapped myself in distance
to refuse to allow my haunted, hardened, heart to love again.

A motor car across central states, we visited halls of fame.
I forgot my birthday and, we never danced in the rain.

The road became a memory, once the journey had its end.
No matter how we pretend there is no past and no tomorrow.
Unleash inner restless need, feast on joy, get drunk on sorrow.

Leave yesterday at Journey's End, forget all you remember.
Soft warm breezes of May promise frigid winds of December.
Life is a dream we wear; It covers the void we wear like a mask.
Oh! To be or not to be? Do we truly even have to ask?

Bronze Flecked Jade by Ronald S Porter ©2016

Beloved had eyes of bronze flecked jade;
lips like mango marmalade;
In her hair, a hue the shade of ancient
empirical Roman robes.

She brought
steel like death to my nightmare
she brought
fire bright healing to my heart
she taught
peace to my innermost mind
...stillness like an empty tomb

And what it was she took
from me, upon leaving, I can not say
I'm just glad it's gone away.
What delight it would be to hold her again.
But, the river of time only flows one way.

On Second Thought by Ron Porter ©2016

Put your hand in my hand and,
put your mind on pause.
Put on your flashing red feet hon,.
We're going out to dance tonight.
lost souls linger in the dark;
We'll ride on the swings in the park.;
The moon is bright, the night is stark;
A bit of dance would lighten the mood.
The heart is a barren womb;
the mind just an empty tomb
On second thought, I'll just fade,
It was not my intent to intrude.

All, Too Soon... by Ron Porter ©2016

midnight madness; fever dreams
it's clear I married much too young

through time tunnels, draped in blue
innocent voices sing guilty songs
trying to do right things that are wrong

plans best laid often go awry
from ruins, golden cities rise
succeeding empires crumble in time

deaths dire dirges and hymns of hope
float, intertwined, upward to the wind

it profits not to question why
live as fully as you are able
 for we all, too soon, shall die

Sunday, May 8, 2016

Can You Hear Me Calling? by Ron Porter ©2010

Broken circles, empty houses,
traces of footsteps fading away.
Every sorrow has been vanquished;
all the ships have sailed today.

Over valleys, under mountains
faces frozen in amber of time.
Can you hear the distant voices;
do you want to join the play?

I've known triumph; I've been broken,
still I stand upon the hill.
While your kisses, I remember,
dance with me just one more time.

Yesterday's love and tomorrow's
sin drips like blood, from my hands.
Take away this shroud of mourning;
mingled tears wash through my soul.

Stolen friendships; mended hearts beat;
keep step with me, through the dark.
Standing, once more, arms enfolding;
watch the sunrise renew the land.

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

i just don't know by Ron Porter ©2016

i looked away then you were there
when i looked back you were gone
you were the crowd i lost myself in
now i find myself solitary and alone
where you went i did not see
nor understand what made you go
what will i do now that you're gone
so many choices i just don't know.

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Rainbow In The Night by Ronald S Porter ©2016

indigo night
blue saxophone
we planned to paint
the town bright red
fresh like green
in early spring
out on the dance floor
like autumn leaves
dried orange and yellow
we fall, upon the bed
weary yet refreshed
after a fashion
we turn the night
purple with passion.

In The Rain by Ronald Porter ©2016

clowns stand in the rain
and cry
they line the streets like lampposts
lightning cuts jagged sections of sky
I smoke in a doorway
trying to stay dry
in the cigarette smoke, I see ghosts
faces of old chums
some dead
some just gone
visions of city lanes
and highways I've known
show clearly the path
that I have taken
yet reveal no things
as to how I ended up here
or schemes and dreams forsaken
it's easy to know when and what
but there is no clue why
how long will this downpour last
I look up to the sky
and inside, I wonder
why do these clowns cry?

Jes Walkin'Home by Ron Porter ©2016

Yeah, Brady Street is really drunk tonight,
rolling and unsteady under my feet.
The closed barrooms' windows are paranoid,
they suspiciously watch me down the street.
I've an unredeemed dream in my pocket;
I got a broken heart in my shoe;
memories dangle from the traffic signs but,
I neither miss, nor think, about you.
Don't panic; the buses are still running,
and the cops are guarding the doughnut stand.
It's my mind, not my heart, hung on my sleeve
and, I'm just about all out of lies to believe.

Everybody listen with your left ear
a secondhand watch marks  time on my hand.
I was thinking about visiting Suzie the floozy;
shes a real wild one, and very prolific.
But, I got a stubborn case of urethritis and,
the doc said that it's nonspecific.
And, there ain't nobody waiting up for me.;
Solitary, independent, my time is all my own.
I'm my "one and only" and i don't get lonely,
I just like spending all of my time alone.

Ascent Out Of Madness by Ronald Porter ©2016

Along cold concrete paths, we wander, 
hoping to escape the pain.
We walk slow with heads hung low, 
like clowns crying in the rain.
Grief stains remain in vain, from dreams, 
left abandoned long ago.
The mask behind another mask smiles; 
the heart beneath the mind wears a frown.
Life is downside up and outside in ;
 taste the colors and smell the sound.
I remember more of the forgotten,
 than you ever got to know.

And, the tears of the clown (hear them crying),
etch lines in the grease paint (listen to the roar)
while flowers turn faces to the sky,
to drink the falling rain (let it pour, let it pour).

Bloody footprints  slowly wash 
from the sidewalk into the gutter;
False preachers, false teachers 
and, false lovers keep on lying;
there is no antidote for all the things 
fools choose to believe.
'Tis the reason that clowns stand, 
in the storm's fury, crying.

And...the tears of a clown,
salty and warm (please, keep us from harm),
Soothes away fear
The answers wait, in that mournful sound
listen closely, you will hear