Poetry Paralax

Dim Glimpses of the Soul

Since moving into the Paris neighborhood of Geocities, I have experienced
a tremendous growth in the volumn of contacts and new-found friends.
Below are samples of my poetry and links to other poetry sites.
I hope this page will be constantly expanded to offer added items of interest.
Selections are to be changed from time to time so please
check back whenever you're in the neighborhood.

As a way of introducing myself, I have enclosed a bio from one of my recent publication notices.

Ron Baron is a native Texan vintage 1934 presently residing in the
central Texas community of Brownwood. He is the Father of five grown
children, single, and retired.  This affords him the time he has sought
to devote to his writing. He has been writing for several years, and his
desire is to share his work for Christ's Glory. Ron's lifetime spans a
chaotic period in the degeneration of human and spiritual values, which
is reflected in many of his writings. With family and careers behind
him, poetry has become his all consuming passion.
My work has appeared in: Southern Ocean Review,New Zealand -
Prarie Messenger, Saskatchewan - Sunrise and Irelingus, United Kingdom -
Balaam's Ass, Australia
- and Marbles, AfterImages, The Thinker, 2River Review, Amrita,
Articulata, GreenHouse Poetry, Crossway Publications,
Black Rose Blooming, Galapegos, Poetry Corner, Palace of Poetry,
Legions of Light, Voice Magazine, Bible Advocate, Rooms of Poe,
Black Rose Blooming, Angel Web, Block Lines, Bridge,
Canadian Dream Gallery, Cactus Bob's, EWG Presents,
and several others in the United States.

One of My Prominent Literary Awards to date Is "The Rooms of Poe Award"
Please click the Icon to go to that Strange and Interesting Region of Poetry!!!
The Rooms of Poe Award

    YOU ARE A VISITOR TO: Four Corners of Ron's Poetry
    • Earth - The Creation of an Almighty Diety
    • Wind - The Sound of His Voice
    • Water - Cleansing of the Souls
    • Fire - Purification of the Saints

     ~ ~ ~ "DOG" ~ ~ ~ 
    The 船og' was bred and trained for fighting;
    	given to me. . . . .in a time of war;
    	loyal to me. . . . .to any degree -
          We fought together. . .and traveled afar:
    Through jungles and swamps, over mountains we 奏romped'
    	till the fighting was over and done.
    	I trusted my life. . .in peril and strife;
           my love. . . . . . .in the end. . . . . he had won!
    When they told me the news. . . that he could be mine,
    	to keep him - my heart jumped for joy!
    	My wife was now pregnant - a joy all it's own;
            our first. . .  . .I hoped. . .  . . .was a boy.
    My wife had our baby, but it was so sad-
    	through labor in childbirth she died.
    	The baby was saved, and all through the night-
    	船og'. . . . . and I . . . . .both cried.
    I moved to the mountains - a cabin for three:
    	just the baby, 船og', and me.
    	船og' like a guardian, quickly became,
           The best. . . . I ever. . . .  did see-
    No matter what happened, in trouble or strain,
    	船og'. . . . . . . always acted. . .  The same.
    	He guarded the baby - as it were his own;
            like a Mother. . . .  船og'. . . . . became.
    But one day while hunting, far out in the woods-
    	I realized. . . . . .the time I'd forgot;
    	neglected to remember, the baby and 船og'-
            for hours. . . . .food. . . . .they had not.
    I came home astonished. . . . .the stillness was strange,
    	the place. . . . was a terrible. . . . .wreck!
    	船og' on the porch , raised his leg, and I saw!-
            blood. . . . .on his paws. . . . .and neck.
    Searching and Screaming!. . . . . I ran all about
    	as I looked for the baby, in vain-
    	Blinded by fear, I could only see 船og'
           the blood. . . . .  . hot rage. . . . and pain!
    Then rushing inside quickly - over the mantle
    	the shotgun. . . .loaded. . . . I found;
    	dashed back to the porch in wild frenzy of thought;
             I needed. . . . . just one. . . . . single round!!!!
     船og' with sad doleful eyes, sat so still,
    	He patiently awaited the un-wavering Kill!
    	Then as I squeezed. . . . and fired the shot-
             his love. . . . . and loyalty. . . .I forgot.
    The trigger was pulled and I couldn't have stopped-
    	far too late was my desperate. . . . . try;
    	while hearing the shot, in echo I caught:
            A tiny. . . . Baby's. . . . .cry---???
    I rushed to the bedroom, flung open the door-
    	most certain the sound came from there!
    	And found my young son. . . in the dresser drawer;
            un-harmed. . . was every. . . . .hair.
    I grabbed up my son,  and bolted back where -
    	in a pool. .  . . on the porch. . . there 船og' lay.
    	Obedient he'd been, to the very end-
           in death. . . . to my . . . . .  dismay.
    The blood left a trail from his neck and paw
    	t'ward the end of the porch. . . . .then I saw !
    	The blood had come from wolves, he'd fought!
           They wounded. . . . his neck. . . . . and paw.
    My heart nearly BURST!. . . . . .My tears flowed like rain;
    	in pain. . . . . .I analyzed. . . . . each track;
    	船og' hid my son, before the battle he fought,
          then KILLED. . . . the whole. . . .wolf pack!!!!!
    My son's now grown. . . . . . . . . and he does own:
    	a dog. . . . . . . . whose breed's the same-
    	        but none Loved more. . . . 奏han' saved my son;
    	船og' . . . . . .was his only. . . name!

    To view additional poems click here

    Poetry Links

    Bridge Collective - Brownwood's Poetry Mammoth
    The Poetry Resource - Patrick Martin's very informational & interesting endeavor

    Southern Ocean Review - New Zeland's Best from Trevor Reeves

        The Seasons of God's Voice
    When rumbling thunder booms, and lightening streaks,
    and roaring winds tear limbs and bark from trees,
    a voice is heard - within my soul it speaks:
    with reprimands that bring me to my knees.
    The clap of rustling leaves applauding spring:
    creates a message to my inner core;
    as flowing fields of pansies dance and sing,
    that same omnipotent voice is heard once more.
    Shimmering waves from summer's radiant heat,
    draw word mirages through the humid air;
    interpreted by my throbbing pulse heart beat -
    the source I recognize : the voice is there.
    Then finally winter freezes spoken breath,
    and on the tips of icicles silence suspends.
    For those who hear the voice pierce shrouds of death,
    the message through eternity never ends.

    To view additional poems click here

          HAVE A WONDERFUL Blessed Day All Year !


Click on a Christian Web Ring button
(This site in the Web Ring is owned by Ron Baron)

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Please look at the next pages!

Links to other sites on the Web

Poetry Eye - Sound+ (8 pages - dark poems)
Poetry Garden - Sound + (5 pages) -Food for thought from The Garden of Poems
Poetry Tunnel - A Narrow Opening into Inner Depths of Thought -
Poetry Sanctuary - A collection of Christian verse with Outstanding Graphics by "Wendy's Backgrounds"
Praise in Poetry - Featuring the Superb Art of Danny Hahlbohm with Christian Poetry

 "Words are the tools men use to sketch
            dim glimpses of their Souls"
Please write Ron Baron at: ronbaron@web-access.net

Please look at the next pages!

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