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Ron Baron


Brownwood, TX, US

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Ron Baron

As leaves turn brown in autumn,
hastening forth to winterís death -
So my soul begins to darken,
questioning . . . will there be a springtime ?

Will I awake and resurrect
as lilies burst from last yearís graves ?
Can my mustard seed of faith
become in springtime . . .
. . . an Eternal Tree ?



Ron Baron

Food from trash that none would dare to eat,
and just my coat and hat to keep me warm.
No bed to call my own except the street -
when shadows stalk with nightís foreboding harm.

As dawn breaks forth streetpeople now must stir;
"Iíll mooch a cup of coffee if I can."
Their eyes view me as just a seamy blur -
perceiving I am something less than man.

I walk the streets alone each day and strive
for that which others never give a thought;
it seems so futile just to stay alive -
until a sidewalk grave my blood has bought.

Then once again from monolithic towers,
the twilight plummets shrouds which fill the street:
where midnight practices itís evil powers;
my soul cries out as hope begins retreat.

"If thereís a God in heavín or hell who hears -
I pray that one decides and quickly sends:
hellís grave or grace relieving all my fears.
No matter which, at least this vain life ends."

Twilight 'til Death


Ron Baron

When daylight fades beyond
the westward heavenís earthly rim,
and darkness covers manís endeavors,
all must time in slumber spend.

Creatures hurrying, scurrying homeward,
seeking burrow, nest, and den,
are finding shelter Ďtil tomorrow
sunrise lights the sky again.

Darkening shadowís reeling eastward,
covering hills and vales and dales,
absorb the last of twilightís colors -
dismal, dull, as grey prevails.

Stellar knives pierce earthís dark shroud;
the curvature illumined by moonlight -
Those who slumber not, both stalk
and become the prey of midnight !

Yesterday Cometh


Ron Baron

The words I planned to write
and some to say
have now become
another yesterday

Things I started doing
not yet finished
now are ever
gone away

The thoughts I thought
in fleeting moments
not remembered
now forgotten

Could have shaped my destiny
but now are dead
erased for all

Time I could have captured wisely
now so dearly cherished
gone forever
ever perished

Closer to the journeyís end
with haste I must begin,
before I find tomorrow
once again
is yesterday

Tunnel Vision


Ron Baron

CENTER> The darkest night is death and
it brings the light of dawning
which I must envision something
keeping hope alive forever.
Seasons mingling ever faster,
hasten toward unknown
many say has been explained
but I not fully comprehend.

That which eludes my
dark but temporal sleepless
appears as just a tunnel,
I pass through seeking, eternal