Let me reintroduce myself...
I am a Ron Poetry,
A rhythm, a line,
Elaborated in time.
I am poetry
A work of art.
Fragmented heart.
I am poetry
A piece of a whole
Measure of a soul.
I am poetry.
A fraction of a story.
A meaning, with a glory.
I am whispered noise.
-Ron Poetry-
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.
...
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:
...
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.
...
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,
...