The Poet

The Poet

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.