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Ron 3d
Willow trees wept
in a grassy glade
Gold a glowing cloud
sun fingers made
Below quiet waters
ran dark as death
No sound no wind
no summers breath.
Ron Mar 24
Grip tight a slick wet ******,
Slide slippery through the neither hair,
Kneel to the urge, to taste and purge,
Such need not mimicked this waning night!

Let prudence part in quickened hearts,
Hold fast those thumps and thrusts and sighs,
Beauties revealing of hidden parts,
Climatic fodder feeding lustful cries!

Nibble softly tautly tender skin,
Moan once more, as breaths implore
The quivering explosion to then set in,
Quiet to follow, with lips on lips again.
Ron Mar 22
Well, so long and thank you
for consenting to this visit
by the mortal life of a forlorn man
traveling outcast with only
his barely beating heart.
Is an abject heart you understand?
Bright red frailty now bled clear,
within to let you peer,
At a stained and ***** past-life

Still, may we converse a while?
Let us live within this day,
exchange a few words, shall we say.
Share some wine, taste some tears.
If only for you to hear,
my lightly murmured pleas.
My heart would then be slightly healed,
Because fondly then could I say
Yes, truly was I here.
Ron Mar 22
Oh mean man with silver hair,
Once well I did know you,
Walked long with you
in the hard heat of the day,
Learning well of the wickedest ways.

Oh mean creature with silver hair,
Your face like a gnarly old tree,
Green moss upon your shoulder,
Hard pale eyes reflecting
A much meaner image back at me.

You taught me to be silver and mean,
As cold waters frosted
by the mid-winters moon,
Stripped naked now of all kindness,
Turned away from such pitying views
Ron Mar 9
I am desperate for her passion
Desperate to squeeze
the night between us
Desperate to feel forbidden

She was a veiled moon born
on the pain of my lonesome sigh
Hiding careful her hurt behind

I am desperate for her passion
Desperate for the taste
of her many smooth things
Desperate to feel forbidden
Ron Feb 8
Why so does peace still leave,
When old loves then refuse to fly?
And shall your light then conquer all things,
A prism of impossible pain and sheen,
Until my sudden longing leaps,
Strong at the sunsets peaceful calm,
Only at last to taint my love,
And fall aflame like a sacred star,
Because my love had flown too far?
Ron Feb 8
His bathrobe fell open in dust-colored folds,
the texture of his shadow now wrinkled and old,
And he was worn and tired and weak and cold.

Staring hard at that foggy face in the mirror,
His reflection a future prediction of death,
Eyes open uncertain at his intruding breath.
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