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Best Poems Written by Patrick Ronan

Below are the all-time best Patrick Ronan poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Patrick Ronan Poem

A Lonely Grave

1

I stood by your graveside this cold winters day.

A heart broken with sorrow that won’t go away.

I called out your name and shed many a tear.

And hoped in my heart that you would appear.

2

God took you from us that fine sunny morning.

Our lives now shattered without any warning.

Your work here on earth has finished this year.

Your books and teachings you spread  far and near.

3

It was a pleasure to know you for sixty odd years.

And when my time comes I will have no fears.

You will be waiting to greet me as oft times before.

When I call to your house and knock on the door.

4

Each night when I lay my head down to sleep.

I will ask the lord your soul to keep.

And if you find any time away from your books.

Look kindly on me as I walk in those woods.

Details | Patrick Ronan Poem

Jacaranda Tree

Spread high and wide against the noonday sun
The jacaranda tree displays its mauve foliage
All nature knows that August has finally come
Students on their way back again to college
On the ground beneath the generous tree
The old woman selling the bags of maize
Out of school children are running free
A flock of goats on the long acre graze
European man and woman on the road
How are you shouts the native child
Old man on bicycle with heavy load
Dusty clothes all worn and soiled
Coloured plumaged birds flit here and there
Darting in and out through perfumed leaves
The happy chirping is their daily prayer
The tranquil air their message receives
Windy Autumn is now about to fade away
And leave behind a flowerless silent tree
We had some pleasure if only for a day
And know that beauty can make us free

Details | Patrick Ronan Poem

Walking With Sister Cancer

There is silence in the noisy corridor
It resides among us all 
We have all met sister cancer 
And now we meet the big machine

There are twenty who wait today 
Silently sitting by the wall 
Our normal words have deserted us 
Today we make do with inner thoughts

What if we are not cured 
Will we leave our dreams unfinished 
What about our family 
And then again does God exist

Why did it have to be me 
I was always very careful 
My health was nurtured day and night 
Is there any justice in the world


There goes a man who is worse than me
My pity now extends to him
Perhaps I have been lucky after all
Then again I am not so sure

There seems no point to waste the day
On thinking what is and might have been
My task today is to trust in God
And act as if I have been cured

Details | Patrick Ronan Poem

Seven-O-Two

I like to listen to Seven O Two at night
We can always count on Kiemo for a fight
If he was President for a day
He would insist on his own way

We could all be taking drugs
And the teacher could flog the thugs
White women he would send abroad
And pay himself if they could not afford

He brushes his teeth and sharpens his tongue
Then runs five miles to expand his lungs
There is no doubt that he can talk
But can he bring his taught to walk

Kiemo knows his constitutional law
Economics and politics without a flaw
Now all he has to learn to do
Tolerate the views of the dissenting few

Details | Patrick Ronan Poem

Diabetic Man

1

On St Patrick’s day my score was nine point two.

Maybe I am about to get the regular flu.

In spite of all the tablets I take.

The magic number Six I cannot make.

2

Every night the Insulin counts to twenty six.

Resembling a drug addict going for a fix.

I am told it goes into the cell.

What good it does I cannot really tell.

3

The Pancreas has gone away to sleep.

The reward of all the chocolate now I reap.

A perpetual hostage to tablets and syringe.

Doctor says that nature takes revenge.

4

Every morning at eight the score I keep.

And when it’s high I want to sit and weep.

Would I be better off in not knowing.

And let sugar keep on flowing.

5

It seems to me I am the master of my fate.

At least for diabetes at any rate.

I will still have to measure, measure,measure.

And build in exercise for my leisure.

6

I know a diabetic man who is eighty one.

He still treasures life and has his fun.

In spite of limitations we can go on.

Live,love life and hum our song.

Details | Patrick Ronan Poem

On the Tranquility of Turmoil

Water falls cast their spray upon the rocks

                                  Misty air cools the parched plants along the banks

                                The rhododendrons bow their coloured heads

                                              Douglas fir reach to the sky.

 

                                                              (11)


                                 The noonday sun peers through the trees

                                  Casts the stream in a silver grey

                                   Red squirrel scampers out of vision

                                  Mongrel dog barks at the children.

 

                                                            (111)


                                          Lone fisherman casts his fly

                                         Trout jump on the other side

                               Thoughts rush incessantly through the mind

                               Broken only by the noise of children playing.

Details | Patrick Ronan Poem

Jellyfish

Here comes our man with briefcase swinging.

Has an opinion on every currency topic.

Likes to discuss issues with a passion.

Words can be bent broken and hyphenated.

Yesterday hello fort on option A.

Today hears about option band.

Embraces it as if it was a diamond.

Tomorrow it’s option C for sale.

A jellyfish that bobs and weaves with every ripple.

Who knows where it stands or swings.

It all depends on where the wind is blowing.

Accommodates itself to every passing blowing whim.

Mr jellyfish floats through like a pirate.

Is not the owner of his opinions.

Plucks them from his neighbours.

And retails them in original packages.

Take pity on our man.

Who runs away from his own thoughts.

Leads a secondhand existence.

The object of derision and or scorn.

Details | Patrick Ronan Poem

Ntate Member

The fat man at the end of the long table
Speaks and we know he is not very able
All the time playing with his paper
We ask what will be his next caper
Speaks to the chairman in a stinging way
Changes his mind like trees that sway
Championed you can do what you like
Advises management to take a hike
Ntate member claims he is not a gentleman
Those colonial titles he is not a fan
Berates a colleague for addressing him so
Then anger and ire begin to flow
You, he warns, need to mind your mouth
Or I will go over and give you a clout
I am known as the college bully
And I intend to live up to my name fully
The vicious man will sooner or later explode
Hatred and resentment are his heavy load
You, call me member or not at all
I see the fat member riding for a fall

Details | Patrick Ronan Poem

Pathway

Tall thin pine trees swaying in the wind 
Sunlight breaking through the narrow gap 
Distant green-capped fields the morning find 
Discarded over there, a branch with sap

Yonder, redundant teacher prunes his tree
Still an intellectual without a class 
Had a dream of one day being free 
And now believes that life is crass

Lonely dog prowls around his den 
Tied to his post without a walk 
Why should God's creature be kept therein 
What would he say if he could talk

White butterflies have crowded round the bush 
What do they know that I do not 
The hedgerows coloured and full of lush 
Nature's stories we have all forgot

We all believe the pathway long 
And suddenly we glimpse the sight of age 
Why have we neglected nature's song 
From this day I will turn a new page

Reflect you well on life, on pain 
Started well with hope and joy 
Life is witness to wealth and gain 
But is a failure were dreams to die

Details | Patrick Ronan Poem

Coole Park

Coole park was where he took his friends
It was his joy until the end.
To stroll along the wooded trails.
While reminiscing or telling tales .
To stop and glare at the big oak trees .
Or those copper beech that stood for years .
He would tell you the story of this famous place .
Or read the inscriptions on the various name plates.
He would salute to a stranger he met there before .
For his manner was always to never ignore .
Then down to the lake to his favorite seat .
We would chat of our school days as if it was our first meet .
Or talk of our Parent’s who are now long past and gone.
Or joke about childhood and the things we had done.
He would speak of his Wife Kay and children at length .
That love that he gave them knew never an end .
On his last days with us he never forgot .
It was to Coole  for that walk no matter what .
Nessan you have taken your last walk in Coole .
So now cool dude you walk with God .
In the forest of life they call Heaven .
So until we all meet again be cool.
Never ever forgotten.
Pat.