Where have you gone?

November 6, 2014November 6, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Loss, Poem, Poetry

It has been some time since we last flowed as one
Wrapping around one another
You reading my mind like a seer
My playful taunts pulling you further

Where have you been hiding yourself
I have been searching for so long
Did you find another
Did I do something wrong

I thought there were moments of your return
But they were mere shadows of a touch
My mind playing tricks on me
Wanting you too much

I am still waiting for you to come back to me
I struggle even now
These words I write
Tumble out but not from a happy brow

Yes, you are sorely missed
I need you to fill my mind
Without you here, my dear poetic pen
My release of thoughts I cannot find

Where has my poetry wandered?

Ronovan

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Fight for that Mirror.

November 5, 2014November 5, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Child, Children, education, Family, Parents, Poem, Poetry, Rights

A mirror sounding
All too familiar to you
But this time you shout no
A shatter will not do

This time you are stronger
As you look at the tiny you
You understand what is happening
Unlike what happened to you

Nurturing and care to be given
To grow something amazing
Working and fighting
To keep those small eyes from glazing

The future is unlimited
For this little view
That mirror you heard
Will not shatter like you

Don’t back down
From those snotty uptights
This is your child
Stand up for their rights

Ronovan

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Day of a Dream

October 31, 2014November 1, 2014 Ronovan Poetry #AmWriting, All Hallows at Eyre Hall, All Saints Day, Flash Fiction, Ghosts, Halloween, Poetry, Spiritual

Darkness has fallen and the doors no longer shake.

Jack O Lanterns have been brought in and witches pulled up by the stake.

Sugar has filled every hollow of child and man.

Excited minds and heartbeats are falling to sleep if they can.

But have you wondered what happens next,

In the world minutes after that night of eve?

Did you think this all came about,

Just to practice trickery for treats to deceive?

The spirits form from wisps of smoke.

Their cackle calls pulled from a drunkards choke.

Why do they come on this night back to earth?

And are they the kindly or those of no worth?

They stagger about through the streets and the paths.

They venture into the quiet to hide their vengeful wrath.

Some wonder why there are those who go missing.

And some wonder just before at the sound of that hissing.

The rustle of a leaf, the wind blowing of course.

As shoulders are driven to earth by inhumanly force.

Bodies try to scream as skin is ripped to shreds.

Last thoughts of how they wished they had returned to their beds.

Feet pass by the darkened garden spot,

The sniffling wet nose drawn to a certain spot.

The master pulls with force to move them on their way.

Perhaps next time on the next All Hallows Day.

The sound of a distant whimpering and a terrible scream,

And the smoke formed spirit knows, for those two, there will be no next Halloween.

The sound comes to its ears at the approach of another present for its once per year day of a dream.

Ronovan

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Loves Touch

October 30, 2014October 30, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Haiku, Love, Memories, passion, Poem, Poetry, Romance, Ronovan Writes Haiku Prompt Challenge, Sensuality

Kisses haunt my lips,

With a quivering loves touch,

Release my pleasure.

(the third of my haiku for my prompt challenge words haunt & release, screams pain, scent of fear)

Ronovan

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Scent of Fear

October 30, 2014October 30, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Afraid, Fear, Fright, Haiku, Haunt, Poem, Poetry, Ronovan Writes Haiku Prompt Challenge

Haunt wafts through the air,

Like a scent of man’s

Release of bowels.

Ronovan

(my second for my prompt challenge this week of haunt&release-screams pain.)

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Screams Pain

October 29, 2014October 30, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Destruction, Haiku, Insanity, Pain, Poem, Poetry, Ronovan Writes Haiku Prompt Challenge, War

Misunderstandings

Release destruction on earth,

Like a haunt screams pain.

(my first for my prompt challenge this week of haunt&release-scent of fear.)

Ronovan

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Ode to the Eternally Dwelling

October 28, 2014October 28, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Halloween, Humor, Poem, Poetry

An ode to a thing that is so wrong is an ode to a thing that has lasted so long.
What could this thing be that cannot be ever broken?
Eternally dwelling in the crevices of a million dark moments like a token.
Yet no one having taken notice will ever to give a word, never to be spoken.

Is it a wish, a delight, or some type of torturous device?
Does it take hold of you and seizing you like a vice?
Cemented indefinitely as though planted by a plan.
What can one do but settle in and give in to the man.

A cyclical trace has been tracked through time.
Like a 19th Century unsolved London crime.
It does not deny what it is, no it admits.
Still we find ourselves tangled up in it’s enchantment in fits.

No, not I, I still remain and resist.
For I have never been one to give into this midnight tryst.
I alone stand forth ready to sound the horn.
As evil ones pass out last year’s uneaten devil spawned candy corn.

Respectfully Much

Ronovan

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Never Gonna Be Like That

October 24, 2014October 25, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Cheating, Inspiration, Love, Lyrics, Poem, Poetry

Took a walk through the park

What I saw nearly broke my heart

You were there with another lover

You smiled at me, no undercover

What game have you been playin’

What have you been whisperin’ sayin’

Do you want to see me dyin’

Do you expect to see me cryin’

Never gonna be like that

No not like that

Even for you oh no not like that

Never like that oh no oh no

I keep moving on and say

Never gonna be like that

No not like that

Even for you oh no not like that

Never like that oh no oh no

You wanted to find it elsewhere

It’s funny but I don’t seem to care

There’ll be no fightin’ from me

You picked your bed, I’ll let it be

If you choose some other to hold tight

Then what makes you think you’re worth a fight

Sorry to burst your bubble

But if you’re wantin’ from me some trouble

Never gonna be like that

No not like that

Even for you oh no not like that

Never like that oh no oh no

I keep moving on and say

Never gonna be like that

No not like that

Even for you oh no not like that

Never like that oh no oh no

Never gonna be

Like that

Never

Ronovan

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Soul Lives

October 22, 2014October 22, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Abuse, Inspiration, Love, Lyrics, Poetry, Salvation, Society, War

Flipping through the lines of lives every day, I have to say

Where are the regrets to be had

By the officially clad

Shining lives

Spinning knives

What do we need

You and me

Is there so much hurt

In the universe

That we can’t be

In unity

We strive

Soul lives

There’s travesty

In their majesty

Battle lines

Over conscious minds

Why does it mean

No more obscene

Draw the fire

With one soul liar

Soul lives

It matters not what we know . . . but what we’re told . . . no no no NO

Our lives, revives, Soul lives, yes what we know . . . is more–than–we–hold

Be beautiful in the moment, every day, be what you say, no no no . . . no don’t–no never give way

Soul lives

The travesty, of your majesty, your arrogance, of your extravagance, of your dominance no no no NO

Soul dies

But I don’t give . . . my Soul Lives

Eloquence ain’t my forte.

October 16, 2014October 16, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Humor, Life, Poetry, Random, Tongue in Cheek

Eloquence ain’t my forte.

Although I never seem to lack for something to say.

Be it some advice or something less nice,

I will continue on until I think my words suffice.

Look at these lines, how they seem intentionally designed.

But if truth be told, they are falling out of my head on their own.

Is there a rhyme or reason or anything to do with the season?

If that were the case then I believe my brain has lost the chase.

Now look to your left and then to your right.

If you did that and you’re alone, I imagine you are quite a sight.

Yes there is randomness in my offering today.

But as I’ve said before, just say what you would like to say.

This rhyming is not all that problematical.

In fact I find it rather interestingly grammatical.

It’s not about love or any of my usual fare.

Even I have my moments where the meanies make me not care.

Oh those meanies, blue, red or green.

All we need is love from four chaps in a yellow submarine.

Singing some songs to push our way through it.

I am sure if they had burped Suwanee River it would have been a hit.

Isn’t that fun, just writing where the words take me?

Who knew the Fab Four would be used so poetically?

Now I will end this before I get into trouble.

You know me, I am bound to burst someone’s bubble.

Much Regards and I give you Much Lovin’

From your poet The Writer known as Ronovan

Up and over are the buttons to follow me in various places. If not, I hope you wander this way again.

I am tired.

October 10, 2014October 9, 2014 Ronovan Opinion Articles, Poetry Depression, Pain, rant, Tired, Worry

I am tired.

And I am not just talking about my Chronic Fatigue as part of my Fibromyalgia. For that I just instantly shutdown the laptop and lie down.

No I am tired of other things.

I am tired of not knowing for certain if I say the right things at times.

I am tired of things I say maybe being interpreted the wrong way because that’s how everyone else means it.

I am tired of worrying about a 10 year old’s Home Work and Test grades because of whatever reasons. (My son has good grades, just to clarify.)

I am tired of not having time to write my books.

I am tired of worrying if my next post is going to come across as negative or as a downer.

I am tired of worrying if I am going to lose another friend for an unknown reason.

I am tired of worrying if I am going to lose a friend because of just not saying things the right way.

And yes . . .

I am tired of having migraines every second of my life now.

I am tired of the pain through my back, neck, arms and hands every time I type or even breathe.

I am tired of every time I walk past a TV all I see or hear is something negative and another death or another threat.

I am tired of politicians without . . . well I was going to say a bit of crudeness but instead I will say . . . without a back bone to actually say what needs to be said and stand up and do what needs to be done.

I am tired of the US of A trying to take care of the world when it can’t take care of itself.

I am tired of people judging people.

I am tired.

I am tired of my mind thinking of the dread.

A dread of what will come, what is ahead.

What is ahead is something I have no control.

A control that I lack and is slowly taking its toll.

What are you tired of?

Ronovan

Otis and the Cow (My Week 13 Haiku Prompt Challenge Haiku)

October 9, 2014October 9, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Andy Griffith Show, Cow, Haiku, Otis, Poetry

For this weeks Haiku Prompt Challenge the words were Spirit & Flight. My example was:

Otis flees with cow,

Full of spirits for the night,

He is put to bed.

Underneath my example I asked if anyone could guess what inspired the Haiku. As no one has answered I decided to go ahead and share the Haiku today with the answer.

This is the Episode 18 of Season 5 from 1965 of The Andy Griffith Show. Otis is the town drunk who shows up riding a cow. Otis normally only gets drunk one night a week and then shows up at the jail to sleep it off. This time Barney, the deputy decides to rehabilitate Otis and offends Otis.

Why did this come to mind when I saw Spirit & Flight? Well I decided to go with some fun and Spirits is another name for liquor and that led me to Otis and the cow was just funny.

And here it is without the words. The red is used in such a way above because if you notice the black and whites of the photo overlapped so much it was almost impossible to find a good color to use.

Ronovan

How to get in a poetry groove.

October 8, 2014October 8, 2014 Ronovan Poetry, Writing Emotions, Feelings, How to, Just Write, Method, Poetry, Technique

Talking about how I write a poem today. I don’t mean as in line by line or how to rhyme.

I was having a conversation with Florence from LitWorldInterviews about my poem ‘Caught in the Deed’ and how the last line totally twisted the entire meaning of the poem and how I was getting some nice feedback for it. That has been a nice thing to have. If anyone who writes say they don’t care about feedback and compliments, I would question that a bit. And I say that simply for the fact that for the things I write there is often a lot of, and I mean a lot of emotion behind it so feelings evoke feelings and it’s nice to hear that those feelings came across. Of course I mean that in regards to other poems, not necessarily ‘Caught in the Deed’.

The truth of the matter is I had no idea what that last line was going to be. She asked what was the other possibilities, and I honestly said there were none. I seriously just had a thought of “I’m sneaking out to get something to fill my needs and I don’t want anyone to catch me.”

This turned into a conversation about how we both write. I am a go for it type. Some play it safe. Let me explain why I can be a go for it writer.

I can delete anything I write and not share it.

Interesting concept, eh?

One of my more popular poems is “Would you . . .” When I first started writing that day I was writing one of my more typical lame poems and I just was not feeling it, and I should not have been feeling it. So I hit enter a few times to space down to a clean area, closed my eyes, paused for a few moments to get that lame garbage out and just center on the first emotion that came to me, and then began to type.

I’ve told people before to just type with their eyes closed and don’t stop. When I say that I literally mean don’t stop for typos or anything. You are going to type words you never use and sentence structure that is completely outside of your normal style. One sentence may not make any sense in the stream of things but keep going. Nothing is wrong at this point, nothing is off limits.

Once you have exhausted it all, open your eyes and take a look.

Other than typos there are few things I change. I might change the length of a line because it ruins the flow of the poem, or I will change a word that is just a glaring horror to the rest of the poem.

What you accomplish when you use the no eyes technique is you rid yourself of all those outside visual distractions and you tap into inner images and emotions.

Another example of letting the worlds flow is the lyric poem “Look what you’ve done to me, oh oh”. To tap into a more primal/sensual feeling I had to close my eyes and just climb inside of my thoughts. For that one I had to ‘see’ what I was writing, but in order to ‘see’ I had to close my eyes to my humdrum surroundings and picture inspiration for those words.

Eventually you will be able to write without closing your eyes. I don’t. I actually play my laptop keys like a piano when writing at times. I even actually move my hands that way and groove to the feel. I know a real poem is happening if that is how I am writing.

Am I a professional or expert at poetry? Far from it, but I do enjoy it a great deal and use it to get a lot of feelings out that I need to get out. “Writing for Therapy’ is one of my things I say repeatedly. I guess if you look at those poems mentioned you’ll get a glimpse into what I need help with. Also, don’t look at my poetry as what poetry is suppose to be like, because as I said, I am not an expert. I am just a hack who has to get it out.

Much Respect

Ronovan

Caught in the Deed

October 7, 2014October 7, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Dairy Queen, DQ Blizzard, Humor, Poetry, Pumpki Pie

We venture out looking for delight

Away from home, eyes darting in fright

Will we make it, will we succeed

Or will we get caught in the sinful deed

We check the mirror as we drive the lanes

We feel the beginnings of the churning pains

Is it all worth this feeling of guilt

Simply to visit a house that sin built

I tell you yes, I will not lie

I cannot turn back, nor will I try

The taste is on my tongue

My caution to the wind has been flung

Yes, yes, I see your faces of shame

But with but a glance you would not blame

For on this day I must do or die

To have Dairy Queen’s Blizzard of Pumpkin Pie

Much Caloric Goodness

Ronovan

Look what you’ve done to me, oh oh.

October 3, 2014October 3, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Desire, Irresistable, Love, Lyrics, Poetry, Raw, Sensual, Wanting

Look what you’ve done to me, oh oh.

(A lyric poem-I know there have been a few lately, but I have these songs going through my head. If I could only write music or play an instrument.)

Ahh Tell you I see you now, clearly in . . . my . . . eyes, for the very . . . first . . . time.

Can’t seem to find . . . my . . . rest cause now I’ve come . . . to know the best, oh oh.

Oh, what have you done to me.

Thrillin’ to my knees, with your hummin’ melodies.

Oh!

What you’ve done to me.

I can’t stop it.

I can’t drop it.

I just gotta know once again and again.

Tell me it’s okay, it’s not sin.

All my thoughts are crazy. Don’t know where to begin.

Look what you’ve done . . . to . . . me, oh oh.

I once was man who could stand,

But now you’ve got me,

Got me on my knees, beggin’, beggin’, beggin’ please.

Done to me.

Got me on my knees beggin’, beggin’, beggin’ please.

Oh no! I don’t want it to end no no, oh no.

Never gonna stop, never gonna drop.

Gonna keep goin’ until this freakin’ world bangs bang to an end

Blows up, and carries us away.

Look what you’ve done . . . to . . . me, oh oh.

I once was man who could stand,

But now you’ve got me,

Got me on my knees, beggin’, beggin’, beggin’ please.

Done to me.

Got me on my knees beggin’, beggin’, beggin’ please.

Please

Don’t get me wrong, no no . . . oh no.

There is no wasted time, I’m glad to be a man, even when I can’t stand.

I love it when you got me beggin’, beggin’, beggin’ please. Yeah!

I so want to lose control and let the lovin’ flow, oh oh.

Look what you’ve done . . . to . . . me, oh oh.

I once was man who could stand,

But now you’ve got me,

Got me on my knees, beggin’, beggin’, beggin’ please.

Done to me.

Got me on my knees beggin’, beggin’, beggin’ please.

Please

Beggin’

Snack Attack

October 2, 2014October 2, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Candy, Doritos, DQ Blizzard, Funny, Humor, Ice Cream, Pie, Poetry, Snacks, Tacos

Snack Attack

I like Cheetos

And Doritos

But most of all

Tacos and Burritos

You take me out

To get a little bitty snack

I walk out the door

With a grocery sack

Give me ice cream

And apple pie

Either ala mode

Or two scoops on the side

Oh yeah ice cream

I like candy

A DQ Blizzard

Would be just dandy

I want some Oreos

And some Chips Ahoy

With a big glass of milk

You got a happy boy

Strawberry cheesecake

Homemade apple strudel

Fresh chocolate ganache

Too much more and I’ll need a stomach pump removal

Only lessons.

October 2, 2014October 2, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Conflict, Contradictions, Dejeciton, Depression, Love, Lyrics, Poetry, Proposal, Rejection, traditions

Only Lessons (A Lyric Poem)

It hurts sometimes.

I never knew that love was to be this way, just a tool.

Fairy tales and wedding veils are only meant for a fool.

Oh no, only for a fool.

I asked, Will you marry me? Would you be? Can’t you see? Oh my.

I asked, Will you marry me? Would you be? Can’t you see? My my.

No answers, no questions, no reasons, only lessons

My, my, oh my, my

We’ve shared our selves.

We’ve made love like Hell, and had a good time as well.

Would’ve thought that would make a chance, for that one time first dance.

No, not a dance this time.

I gave you my life.

You took it without a question, taking all of my affection.

I guess that meant more to me, than maybe you thought it should be.

Not what it should be.

I asked, Will you marry me? Would you be? Can’t you see? Oh my.

I asked, Will you marry me? Would you be? Can’t you see? My my.

No answers, no questions, no reasons, only lessons

My, my, oh my, my

My, my, my oh my ring doesn’t fit your finger any longer.

This has turned into more than you thought, my love s0 much stronger.

I asked, Will you marry me? Would you be? Can’t you see? Oh my.

I asked, Will you marry me? Would you be? Can’t you see? My my.

No answers, no questions, no reasons, only lessons.

My, my, oh my, my

No answers . . . no questions . . . no reasons . . . only lessons . . . my, my . . . oh my, my

No reasons . . . only lessons . . . my my.

What am I?

October 2, 2014October 2, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Fantasy, Lost, Pain, Poem. Amnesia, Poetry, Questions, Reality

There are things I can’t describe even with my words.

I see in my mind these thoughts that are distant that I want.

I can’t quite reach them but I know they need to be had.

They are like a wisp of mist as I almost touch them.

Why can’t they be tangible?

I can see them and know what they are.

I want them.

Why can they not just be?

Frustrations churn in my brain.

People wonder why I seem to be going insane.

I want to scream but then what would happen?

I would prove them right, that I am no longer capable of existing.

I simply want those thoughts, or are they dreams?

Am I dreaming these things that I see in my mind?

How can one tell what is real and what is not?

I want to know reality.

But what if reality is so bad I cannot bear it?

What if the dream is protecting me from something?

What if I don’t need to know the truth?

Are there people letting me live a lie?

What am I?

Am I really here and in this place?

Am I a make believe part of a fantasy of my own mind?

What if I never woke up that day?

What if this isn’t even happening?

LMP

To my darling . . .

September 27, 2014September 27, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Complete, Letter, Loss, Love, Love Letter, Poem, Poetry

To my darling . . .

It has been moments since we said ‘until next time’, as ‘goodbye’ is not a word we share. I already feel infinitely smaller with your absence. A many layered ghost of ice surrounds me and my universe as I think of you as you are so far away even after only short seconds of time have passed. I feel as though I am floating in a nothingness I cannot touch or feel but cannot escape.

My thoughts are already swirling in confusion of images and feelings and wishes. One on top of the other on top of the other and repeating until there is no semblance of one cohesive thought. I must breathe. I close my eyes and squeeze them with all my strength to grab hold of just one wish, one feeling, one image to settle this loss inside.

I know there is no reason for this feeling of dread. I know that you love me. I know that we are one. But I know you are not here. I know you are moving further and further away. I know things can happen. I know I might never know. I know.

“Have a good night’s sleep and dream of me,” you say. I dare not for fear of what those dreams bring. Joy? Passion? A world of love not realized in a life ever existing? Yes, but also the disasters await. As my mind turns faces into images of heartbreak. Sleep is not of my world.

I am restlessly content in this world we have created. Through all the sleepless nights and days and the floating naked through cold dimensions of dark emptiness . . . I shout with joy that you are mine, I am yours. No matter the dread of feelings of confusion of images, I smile. My heart beats stronger and defeats all attacks. My mind with you as its partner fights against all doubts of self.

You make me who I am. I was nothing before you. My life was simply existing in a routine until you became my inspiration, my joy, my love. My heart was meant for love and you have allowed it to fulfill its purpose. With it I can do anything. No pain, no illness, no mental state, no . . . distance . . . is too much to overcome.

I feel every ounce of my love expanding inside of me ready to explode as my love grows for you and wishes to wrap you inside of it to feel what complete love is like. A love that is total. A love that includes every aspect of your being. A love that desires, respects, is amazed, awed, humbled, and completed by your existence. Before you knew I was, I loved you completely.

Completed by the one who is ever inside my every molecule of life.

My skin is caressed by the air she has exhaled a world away and drifted to cover me.

My world rotates as her footsteps move the earth.

She is the one that inspires me to live life to the fullest and love with heart so completely.

I may die in a moment, a flash of an eyelash,

But I have experienced what perfection of love is to be.

How much can one man take and not erupt with joy?

If this time is over then I can say that no man has ever been loved as much as you have loved me.

Your Lover

Shattered pieces.

September 26, 2014September 26, 2014 Ronovan Poetry Confusion. Love, Hurt, Lost, Pain, Poetry

Words can’t escape from my head.

Sometimes I think it might be better off dead.

It doesn’t considerate much at all.

I tend to blame it all . . . on the fall.

Maybe I’m just a bit naive.

Or perhaps I simply self deceive.

Round and round the matters flow.

But doesn’t matter where they all go?

I’m terrified of a sound.

Shadows follow me all around.

Wherever I go there they are.

Is there such a place as too far?

Tempered thoughts slash to the core.

They remind of things that were no more.

Angry letters in a row.

All I really ever can do is put on a picture show.

It’s much too late for sorry now.

The deed I’ve done has been written down.

Damaged cells in my mind.

Added to the others so easy to find.

It’s easy to forget, when you have no need for a net. Then you fall you shatter to pieces, because your guard was let down and your defense ceases.

Ronovan

ronovanwrites

Author, Poet, Blogger, Father, Reader And More

Poetry

Where have you gone?

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Fight for that Mirror.

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Day of a Dream

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Loves Touch

(the third of my haiku for my prompt challenge words haunt & release, screams pain, scent of fear)

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Scent of Fear

(my second for my prompt challenge this week of haunt&release-screams pain.)

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Screams Pain

(my first for my prompt challenge this week of haunt&release-scent of fear.)

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Ode to the Eternally Dwelling

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Never Gonna Be Like That

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Soul Lives

Eloquence ain’t my forte.

I am tired.

Otis and the Cow (My Week 13 Haiku Prompt Challenge Haiku)

How to get in a poetry groove.

Caught in the Deed

Look what you’ve done to me, oh oh.

Look what you’ve done to me, oh oh.

Snack Attack

Only lessons.

What am I?

To my darling . . .

Shattered pieces.

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Spread this stuff everywhere!

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Spread this stuff everywhere!

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Spread this stuff everywhere!

(the third of my haiku for my prompt challenge words haunt & release, screams pain, scent of fear)

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Spread this stuff everywhere!

(my second for my prompt challenge this week of haunt&release-screams pain.)

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Spread this stuff everywhere!

(my first for my prompt challenge this week of haunt&release-scent of fear.)

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Spread this stuff everywhere!

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Spread this stuff everywhere!

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Spread this stuff everywhere!

Spread this stuff everywhere!

Spread this stuff everywhere!

Spread this stuff everywhere!

Spread this stuff everywhere!

Spread this stuff everywhere!

Spread this stuff everywhere!

Look what you’ve done to me, oh oh.

Spread this stuff everywhere!

Spread this stuff everywhere!

Spread this stuff everywhere!

Spread this stuff everywhere!

Spread this stuff everywhere!

Spread this stuff everywhere!