You came to me without warning
Took up occupancy without permission
Your purpose hidden from the host
In a dark cloud of anger and confusion
But you did not come alone
You brought along a companion
Pessimistic fear was his name
Wreaking panic and consternation
The question asked over and over
How long did you plan to stay
We could not see the answers offered
With a mind that had gone astray
You were very active in your work
Every day you plucked the beam of joy
And left an impostor in its place
What was I to do but cry
While you were at your mindless task
You caused the host a lot of pain
Damaged work and social contacts
And his relations twice again
Your host had cultivated well the ground
When day and night were merged in one
Working at unremitting pace
If you could see the damage done
From that time is twenty years or more
You have come and you have gone
I do not wish to have you back
I once again am one
From now on I guard the door
By reflecting well on lessons learned
Painful, fearful, costly payment
Joy and freedom is well earned
copyright: 2007 Professor Nessan Ronan
When do you know enough
Is it on your death bed
Or when you fall prey to illness
Or when you lose your job
Where is enough
While you are striving to win
At the game of money making
And neglecting your soul
What is the hunger that drives
When in the end you cannot eat
While your neighbour starves
Under your watchful eye
Why does human wisdom
Come to our door
When it is too late
To know enough is enough
Whence we thus resolve
To make amends for the past
And use the resources available
To benefit mankind
Copyright ©2007 Professor Nessan J. Ronan
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
copyright 2001 Professor Nessan Ronan
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.
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.
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.
Nessan J. Ronan
National University of Lesotho.
Copyright Nessan Ronan 2007
On St Patrickís 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.
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.
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.
Every morning at eight the score I keep.
And when itís high I want to sit and weep.
Would I be better off in not knowing.
And let sugar keep on flowing.
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.
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.
Copyright 2007 Professor Nessan J. Ronan
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 itís 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.
Copyright 2007 Professor Nessan J. Ronan
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
It was a bright sunny day in two thousand and seven.
September twenty first at quarter to eleven.
In a coma you lay without even a stir.
With our eyes full of tears it just never occurred.
That this was the last time we would see you alive.
At your bedside your family, children, and wife.
We watched you all night and part of the morning.
Then you sighed your last breath without any warning.
We hoped before you parted to your home up above.
We could take you in our arms and give you a hug.
Your body all broken and ruptured with pain.
All our hopes and desires were all in vain.
For God had decided it was your time to go.
To that place they call heaven that we all know.
You left us your poetry , teachings and books.
So let us make use of your wonderful works.
When we visit your grave now we know your not there.
You are up in that College without any care.
So look kindly on all that are left here a mourning.
And please God tomorrow we all have a bright morning.
Copyright: 2007 Patrick J. Ronan
A Lonely Grave
I stood by your graveside this cold winters day
A heart broken with sorrow that wonít go away.
I called out your name and shed many a tear.
And hoped in my heart that you would appear.
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.
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.
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
Waiting forYour Email.
For twenty years now you have been away.
In a far away land where you choose to stay.
We see you only when you come home to visit.
We communicate by email most every day.
We keep up to date with current events.
We tell of our troubles our joys and our cares.
We ask each other advice because we are friends.
We got used to the emailís thatís all we had got.
But we cherished them all even if they were short.
Now for some time those emails have stopped.
Itís never the same when I open the box.
The pleasure I got every time I logged in.
To check for that email that you always sent.
I know for sure that you have passed away.
But I still look for your email nearly every day.
In the hope I will find one that just went astray.
If someday you get internet up there above.
Please send me a reply with your email address.