Nessan J. Ronan

Our Forever Friend

Generated image

Gaelic Translation professional or free

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

copyright: 2007 Professor Nessan Ronan


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

     copyright: 2007 Professor Nessan J. Ronan


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

Diabetic Man


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.

Live,love life and hum our song.

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




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

Copyright: 2007 Professor Nessan Ronan

Nurse Roma

The patientís condition I do not care
Any medical condition does not scare
I will  only do what I see fit
I will tell you when and where to sit

In this clinic I am always the boss
What you think I give not a toss
Although you might be very ill
All those forms you have to fill

She can drive your pressure way up high
And dismiss your tests with just a sigh
She know just looking I am very ill
But for hours I must wait for the magic pill

Nurse Roma Rude makes no idle boast
When stating that she can upset the most
The proud possessor of a medical skill
Can more than lightly a patient kill

Copyright: 2007 Professor Nessan 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

copyright@ Professor Nessan J. Ronan

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 Parentís 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.

copyright 2007 Patrick J. Ronan

Home At Last.


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

copyright 2007  Patrick J. Ronan

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.

copyright : 2007 Patrick J. Ronan

Sign up for PayPal and start accepting credit card payments instantly.