Poetry from the 1970s by Ron Alan Pierce

The Book of Love   I Miss You   If I'd Known   Return   Boating   Canals of Sand   Maybe   Despair  Whippoorwords  Honor   New Year's   The Rose   Rusty Souls   Welcome Home   Sunset   Slower   Stop   ButterFlower    




The Book of Love


On my desk the book of love

    lies dusty, old, forgotten;

   I left it there, a million words

on paper partly cotton;

    Because, one day, I recognized

        that words just can't convey;

             But touches, smiles, and shining eyes

say all there is to say    





I Miss You


Morning softness

      holds the trees

 Cotton clouds     

      sun-fed breeze


Oh how I wish   

         your waking sighs

Also met          

       my morning eyes





If I'd Known


If I'd known of yesterday

                  before tomorrow came and went

    I'd still agree time with you

            could not be any better spent


           I don't know where you are now

     if tomorrow's slipping by

           Is -- was -- may be -- but I know

                times with you just need no why







In the darkness of the light          

      a shadow brushed against my soul

I saw a tandem in the night         

      and touched a moment of my goal


Within the thirst of melting ice    

a waterfall of molten fire       

 Caressed a wind of dancing waves

exploding in a white desire    


   And then before the night of dawn

      we lay there shifting in the sands

    While Saturn's frown upon the fawn

        said No, you can't go holding hands


   So then became our separate ways

we went to places coming to

  'Til now we find a two-way mirror

says hi to me and hi to you    





Do as you will

but don't impose your will

 on what others do







Things are floating

ever floating

ever blending       

so sublime    


It's nice boating    

  so nice boating

endless rivers       

of my time     





Canals of Sand


Life can be                   

a map                    

                            of oft-traveled paths                 


                         like canals of sand                  

        with no end                  

              and no out                 


And only                      

a vision              

                   borne by desire             


                          like caterpillar wings            

    can fly you             






Excitement is an endless pursuit;

Contentment a timeless joy






Maybe ---                                  

when you are a queen

 of your universe

and I am a king           

of mine            


Maybe ---                                  

      we'll both have found love

    on different paths

I on yours with you     

on mine           





A circle                

   has no ends

 A moment             

     has no bends







My soul is like a thousand hands        

       all reaching, wanting, needing touch

 all finding naught but emptiness;

It's tough to live and feel this much


 My life is like a thousand books         

all part written, all part-read     

     I sometimes feel  "Well, why go on ---  

       enough's been written, enough said."


But no, I think I understand              

       there's still one thing I haven't done;

I must reduce my hands to two        

put all the books into just one   








  are poet's wings

       and whippoorwords

  are subtle things

  that dance away

         through mist and rain

   like poet's words

     go down the drain




The Rose


In throes

of woes  

 are those

   who chose 

 to close   

 the rose  

of flows  





New Year's


It's morning, and a misty fog         

is a thousand sparkling kisses

helping awaken my spirit      

to a new day and a new year


              Each breath slides brightly through my nose

       as grandeur of the the silent trees

           reminds me that they are the source

   of all the life in air we breathe


I wonder --- do we give to them?

 of else except a fireplace       

in homes built of them too?   

If so, what is it that we do?         


          The morning birds dance through the air

         a squirrel roams for food that's free

             and laughter rides my vapor breath ---

       I think that they know more then we!


      Ah, well, perhaps the year will dawn

 when all life dances unawares

        there ever could have been a time

            when selves were all of human's cares





The manifestation of ignorance

is best perpetrated

by the sound

 of one's own








If you move too fast

you won't see

           a leaf in the Fall

                  the dew on the grass

     the intricate web

          of another's life





Sharing someone else's feeling

is even more joyous

                       than experiencing your own





Welcome Home


Welcome home ---                       

I've missed your spirit       

a gusty breeze         


carries life               

      of laughter, tears, and love ---

welcome home.                           


Welcome home ---                       

 I've missed your touch       

with dancing eyes    


show your love        

 of feelings old and new ---

welcome home.                         


Welcome home ---                       

     I've missed your presence      

an afterglow            


winds around           

 the beauty in your soul ---

Welcome home!                         







Honor is a lonely hunter                  

clothed with virtue           

                                     walking barefoot on the thorns of humanity


A lonely breeze among the trees     

 touching and soothing        

                                     reassuring limbs buffeted by the storm        


A hunter now, but a thorn before   

that must not forget         

                                       how lucky it was to have been stepped upon





Rusty Souls


Rusty souls                       


                 spread the morning light

                 diffuse the shadow night

embrace life         

once again    







Stop the noise                

and you will hear

         your own music


Stop your own music       

and you will hear

               the music of others


Stop, now                     

and you will hear

                        the music of the universe







   As the sun reached down to touch the sea

the cirrus puffs ran slowly eastward

across the darkening sky                 

(to meet the rising sun?)                 


 My new friends, we'd never met before

these glowing oakwood coals;        

Once white, soon purple, then to black

just time to say hello                     


A twinkling star said "here I am"           

and others came to view;              

Their time had come (and would again)

 old friends I'd seen before              


But when I looked for my new friends  

 their little journey's end had come

and just a lonely wisp remained    

of memories upon my soul            


   New friends, I'd seen them live and die;

 I turned to go, but raised my eyes

         and looked once more at my old friends

who'd see my journey's end         




There is more to do              

         than there is to say







A butterfly is like a day  

       coming, here, then gone;

       A little warmth, a brief hello

      on, to meet the dawn     


     A flower's like a gentle song

      whisp'ring "Come to me"

             A voice that says "I cannot move"

hoping you will see


    A butterfly is like a breeze

riding on the air     

                   A breath of life that leaves the trees

     dancing here and there


        A flower's like a subtle touch

   reaching deep within

            A soothing ripple leaving peace

  everywhere its been


      A butterfly is like the night

awesome mystery  

          A twinkling hint of aeons past

aeons yet to be     


         A flower's like a shining light

color's ecstasy       

                     Showing nature's strongest force ---   

perfect symmetry


    A butterfly is like a smile

   on, then off in haste

                  Ah, to know the secret that would

  keep it in its place!


        A flower's like an inner calm

sanctum sanctorum

            A centered soul, a power-bond

crystallized in one


             When butterfly and flower meet

echoing their call

                       Look there! See how the flower's left?

          Standing, proud and tall!





You will find moments                                

      everywhere you search for them




Reflections   Moments II   

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