The Poet

The Poet

Sunday, January 27, 2019

A new house Built Of Old Bricks by Ron Porter/ January 27, 2019

Hello there friends and followers,

Welcome back again. Today, I offer a demonstration of how I use a mix of techniques, from different forms, to compose poems of my own. Whether a a more traditional rhyming poem with strictly defined stanzas or simple free verse, I use what I have learned from other forms to write as best as I can.

Quick note about the poems: Most were written around the same time; most are highly personal; the speak of my experiences rather than observations of the world outside me; a few feature symbolism most readers won’t understand, which should not detract from the overall enjoyment of the poems.  I hope you will enjoy them all
Humbly submitted,
Ronald Porter

The Road by Ron Porter ©2019

low rent rooms, dirty hallways
peeling lead paint, it was okay
nothing but place to stay. the spaces
I dwelt, they were never my home

cold-hearted, duplicitous unfaithful
lovers; liars, cheaters from the start;
broke hope-shattered dreams
none ever allowed to touch my heart

I am a roamer; a vagabond rover
I wander alone; I travel a strange highway

the trail I follow is not destiny
nor is it my journey; it’s only the road.

Sooo...Do You Play The Piano? by Ron Porter ©2019

Yesterdays all were once tomorrows
Turn joys over and find the sorrows
Love can’t be hoarded in purses
Nor, attained by theft or borrow.
Chewing gum will not make you dumb.
the key to the highway is your thumb.
You can walk from here to Utah
but, I bet your feet will be numb.
Swing your partner and promenade;
mousey men, many plans, have laid.
You can drink up all the tea in China,
I’ll be upstairs with the downstairs maid.
Now that my tale has fully been told,
give me not drink, neither silver, nor gold.
Let down your gown, give me some ways
to keep me warm for this night is cold.

It’s A Lollipop by Ronald S Porter ©2019

Big Jim bought the farm tonight
outside the Rise And Shine
He took a bullet in the back
sittin’ in his Cadillac
Shady Sadie started cryin
and went running down the block.
Now, all the nickle-dime rustlers
all the boosters, hos and hustlers
have started salivatin,‘Cause,
they know his house ain’t locked.
A big screen TV for the taking;
there’s jewelry, iphones and his stash.
maybe even a pile of hidden cash!
man, it’s got folks’ hearts palpitating.
Everybody is moving and, quick;
it’s a lollipop and they all want a lick,
before the po-leece force shows up
and, starts in with the investigating.

Waiting for Sunrise by Ronald S Porter ©2019

In the hour of anguish between dark and dawn
when time is dragging and, life is heavy;
when loneliness comes crushing down
and, in agony, my soul soundlessly howls
like wolves mourning a pack brother slain
in the wretched wakefulness,
that torments me while the normals sleeps

I weep bitter tears of despair and remorse
embracing my injuries close to my chest
for each is a companion constantly present
to recall some sorrow and suffering I’ve known
and while my hurts make for poor company
it is better to hold them tightly than be all alone
and it seems the sun will never... never ever rise again.

When I Was Seventeen by Ron Porter ©2019

Oh, What a summer it was!
A garden of flowers I did not pluck
Two were willing to be my lover
but I fall so easy, damn my luck!
There was the third I longed to touch
The problem was she loved me too much
And, I couldn’t yet love that way
but, care enough to walk away.
There was the one who’d left me behind
treated me unkind; boy I sure missed her.
I’d tasted goodbye the last time I kissed her.
I knew she was gone before she even knew
And lastly there was the tall tender one,
still paying penance for what she had done
long before we ever met
Willing to give any delight, save one;
the only one I knew about, much to my regret.
So much promise; all hypothetic.
All that potential and, no kinetic.
I remember their eyes; recall each voice
So may options that I had no choice.
Everything to gain; everything to lose
I made my decision; I chose not to choose
But, oh! What a summer it was.

Phase One by Ronald S Porter ©2019

The streets are filled with zombie robots.
in business suits, armed with tommy-guns;
roaming alleys and avenues;
assignment: to kill the niggers and nuns.
Like jackals steal a lions meal,
quick as wolves fleeing a rabbit;
move your feet in rapid retreat
if you wear black skin or, a habit.

Heed this warning-flee the wrath!
Do the math; the answer is simple.
All are marked for death tonight
who have nappy hair or wear a wimple.
Brain eating, zombie, automatons
with digital eyes that glow like suns,
bring panic and pandemonium,
lurch about slaughtering niggers and nuns.

Their exact mission we do not know but,
when this mass extinction has ceased,
phase two of the operation commences,
new targets to purge; the polacks and priests!
And so on and, so on and, so....

Happy Fool by Ronald S Porter ©2019

Before I sang the heartbreak blues
Before I put on my travelin’ shoes
Back when I believed true love lasts forever
What a happy fool I was.

When I did not know hearts could be turned cold
When I hadn’t learned what people will do for gold.
Back when I believed love can conquer all
What a happy fool I was.

Now I’ve been schooled in deceit and malice
Now, I know how to shield my heart in callous
Since truth taught me to be a skeptic and cynic
What a wise but sad man Am I

Too long lonely; too much alone
Despite the disappointments I have known
I choose to believe love still waits for me
And I will, once more, a happy fool be.

If You Were There, You Know by Ronald Porter ©2019

Singing off key Elf songs, I pulled on fine Vietnamese rope
and watched Brady Street invaded by giant green spiders.
The Queen and I sat in the kitchen, early one morning.
Supplicants came, bearing gifts, without warning.
Everything was hurting but I didn’t feel the pain
and laid down in the gutter, celebrating the rain.

Fire transformed a zero into a hero;
He was so frustrated with longing and desire.
Listening to Jimi Hendrix play, just like Nero,
Big Chuck tried to set a cement sidewalk on fire.
Weekend trips to the farm; sunshiney lakefront walks.
She didn’t like the way I acted; but she loved the way I talked.

I remember every face, every lover, place and, friend.
You can believe everything I tell you is true
When I say if I had the chance to go back to then.
It is a certainty that if I could I would,
Do it the very same way all over again.
We had ourselves a ton of fun, never hurt anyone along the way.
When all has been said and done, there's nothing is left to do or say.

It Ain’t That Funny Leroy #3 by Ron Porter ©2019

Hunger rides a crippled horse
poverty is a car without wheels
in a wretched house, no wolf is at the door
but a whole pack lives on the second floor
broken windows; empty dreams
screams and sirens stalk the streets
down the way a broken playground
on rusty children’s equipment skeletons play
there’s not enough take home pay or whiskey
to relieve the dismay, pain or suffering

Popeye chicken bones , like bread crumbs
lead dead men back to hollow homes
mannikin-like ghosts crowd the night
and, every single, living person feels alone
it hurts all the way down to the marrow
buried deep inside the broken bone

Urban Decay: 3rd Revision By Ron Porter ©2019

down the maze-like streets and narrow alleyways
I find myself, chasing me and my former self
inside the unknown city’s looming defending wall
where all the avenues turn back on themselves
offering to ways to go on a no-way street.
I don’t know if I am coming of going
in the mists of the night, I hear the strains
of an old Steve Miller song What was the title?
Oh; The Beauty Of Time Is It’s Still snowing.
And, I can find no points of reference
gone now are all the old landmarks
the traffic huddle crowded together
to argue and bicker with one another
lost and alone, I wander, aimless and lame
amidst wreckage, rubble and ruin, I roam
but its my mind that is the old and abandoned
devastated, destroyed, dead, decaying city
Well, it ain’t much but its surely my home
where I hang my hat; my head and, my heart
maybe, just maybe I’ll be spending the night.

Kissed In The Night by Ron Porter ©2019

romantic love seems long ago
that dizzy, dancing, flying, falling feeling
more addictive than heroin;
sweet a s sugar; thrilling like cocaine
now memories are all that remain
of the breathless anticipation
and the passion filled abandon
Now without the substance to hold
left to cling to only memory
I do not sadden i feel no loss
rather I rejoice gratefully
that romance love once called my name
and kissed me in the night

Hard Luck Story Blues by Ron Porter ©2019

Here you come with your sad, sad, song;
telling everybody how I broke your heart.
I wasn’t the only one who done some wrong.
truth is: you got a real good head start.
Now you’re walking around all pouty,
with fallen face; looking all forlorn.
Come on now; that just the breaks.
Sometimes it breaks good;
sometimes it breaks bad.
You ain’t the only one angry, hurt and sad.
Don’t act like you gave me something so
rare and special, that I had never had.
I guess just it just surprised you to find
that I could could hit and quit it;
do without it and forget it.
And never really give a shit I left it behind.
It’s not like you gave me anything
that many others never got to get.
You were no shining angel when we met.
So you got your hard luck story;
well baby, I got mine
We can compare our love scars
over a bottle of good red wine.
But, we’ll have to that some other day
‘Cause, right now I just ain’t got the time!

Dancing In The Rain by Ronald Porter ©2019

You came to me in robes of sorrow
your feet were shod with boots of shame.
I said Baby, take those old clothes off,
let’s go dancing in the rain.

I threw away my getaway shoes;
Removed my full dress suit of pain.
Feeling lighter, my outlook brighter,
I danced with you, naked, in the rain.

When we met, both bruised and battered,
twisted inside-damn near insane,
Angels’ joyful tears washed away our fears
those were the rain in which we danced.

Life still has hardships but, we have each other;
together we trudge on nor, do we complain.
When tired , stressed, worried and/or strained,
we stop; share a grin; strip down to the skin,
and go dance naked in the rainy night.
Then, once again, everything is right.