My second poem in my new Woman series on Embracing a Wounded Soul.
Much Respect
Ronovan
(PS-Does anyone have a sledgehammer for my head today? I am used to migraines as I have them every day but this one is about to make me blind.)
Poetry
What is this Beauty?
My offering on Dazzling Whimsy’s site today. I can sympathize with a teacher starting a new year, so helping as I can.
Much Respect
Ronovan
There is beauty in the unknown
But there is also danger
What is this that I have found
I should know you but you are a stranger
Your brilliance brought me to a stop
And I had to have you for my own
But I dare not touch you lest I be locked
But memento of our tryst to be shown
Now I long to know who you are
I share your beauty with others
For I cannot go another day
Or else my heart smothers
Yes a bit of my own photography. (Scary I know, and not good, but I love this photo. It was taken on an outing with my son ‘B’.)
Much Respect
Ronovan
You may follow my other offerings at various locations by following me on Bloglovin’.
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High above the world.
I helped out a friend today as she is overloaded with real world life. Teacher, Mother, and so many other things. Her photography in My Home state atop the mountain that I used for my Perseverance photo last week. So her photo and my Haiku. Please visit her and follower her. She has amazing photography! I kid you not. (I’ve never typed that phrase before. Kinda weird.)
Ronovan
High above the world,
My heart soars with a beauty,
Everlasting love.
by Ronovan
Helping out today, I was given this photograph as inspiration. Kate picked it intentionally as it is one of her daughters standing atop Stone Mountain, oddly enough the subject of my wordless Wednesday photograph. To achieve the quality of shot Kate did here considering the haze one can obviously get from the atmosphere is exceptional. The richness of the coloring of her daughter is amazing. I know the rock that girl is standing on. These days I wouldn’t do it, but then again she is the one that was a flyer for competitive cheer for most her life.
My Haiku was an easy one to write when you take everything into account. You have a mother taking a photograph of her daughter high above the world. It took me only a very few moments to write…
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If’s . . .
If there are desires in the world you have not yet fulfilled,
Fill them.
If there are loves you have not expressed today,
Express them.
If you have pleasures you want to know,
Know them.
If you admire someone that could use admiring,
Admire them.
If you know someone who needs encouragement,
Encourage them.
If you have a dream for your future,
Fulfill it.
If you have if’s in your life,
Make them did’s.
Much Respect and Love
Ronovan
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The Eminent Fall.
It was about to snap, the brittle bound signalling line.
He didn’t know what to do as they all cried out, “Mine, mine, mine.”
The ticktock ticktock kept a measured beat.
Drowned out by their pounding clambering feet.
“No, no,” he cried to as if words would drive them back.
The more he screamed the more they came on the attack.
Did they sense it, the eminent fall?
Like an important phone call?
The twisting made the agony more than imagining.
The is was for real and too much for his handling.
The pulling grew stronger, as the line began to stretch.
What would happen when it snapped, would they catch?
“It’s okay,” they say as they keep telling him their reasons.
What they don’t know is he’s almost out of seasons.
The warnings are there, as he has constantly repeated.
But they never listen, they just want be sweetly greeted.
“Screw you,” he says through his dilapidated mind.
The snap they hear in his voice a shock, a new creature unkind.
“I told you to leave me alone,” he shouts.
All he receives in return are lips . . . all pouts.
“Sorry,” he says and their eyes begin to glow.
He shakes his head. “Your games a no go.
I know what your playin’ and it’s so tired.
So long to you all, it’s over, expired.”
He turns his way and then flips out the light.
One last look back and then he walks out into the night.
He wanders out into a place never before seen.
The streets are paved and the colors a majestic scene.
Finally peace, he thinks as eyebrows raise.
He finds a spot to relax and drifts as tired eyes glaze.
He faintly hears as he slips off into space,
The beautiful sounds . . . of Amazing Grace.
Much Love to You All
&
To All a Goodnight
Ronovan
Original Image Credit: gettyimages © Original Photo by Thomas Vogel
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Woman #1
A simple poem with a simple message.
Much Respect
Ronovan
You are my . . .
A poem of the Embracing a Wounded Soul site. As I completed it I noticed the shape and was pleased with how it turned out as I simplified my sentences.
New around here
Here’s my first blog writing on The Obscure Dreamer site.
Much Respect
Ronovan
“Questions of Peace and Hope”-A poem
My poem for the day on Embracing a Wounded Soul. A lot of questions. Do you know the answers?
Ronovan
I love . . . no regrets.
I love.
Two little words of forever
Wrapped within walls so clever
Longing to be opened by your yes to sever
I love.
More than feelings of a foolish mind
Thoughts shared of a similar kind
Ignoring obstacles to enjoy the togetherness you find
I love.
Painful moments of distance felt
A smile of an image that pain it does melt
Mattering not in what realm that image does dwelt
I love.
More than feelings of skin on skin
Thoughts shared intertwining in more than sin
Ignoring obstacles just to hold the presence of you within
I love.
You have not found it yet
I say to you, you’ve met it I bet
Merely consider what it is you are willing to let
Four last words.
I love.
No regrets.
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My Load
“My Load”
I do not say things,
In order to burden you,
I must deny me.
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Three Word Wisdom-A Haiku
Three Word Wisdom
by: Ronovan
Repudiating,
Unconventionality,
Discombobulates
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Odd One Out
Never the one chosen
Never the one choice
Never the one chased
Never the one charmed
Ever the one alone
Ever the one afar
Ever the one aware
Ever the one alarmed
The one hurting
The one heaving
The one haunting
The one howling
Battered
Broken
Bound
Bent
Rising
Reveling
Realizing
Reinventing
Now the one embraced
Now the one enthroned
Now the one empowered
Now the one elegantly…alone and okay
Inspired by several offerings I’ve read today about things not owed and being that odd girl out. One a more detailed piece and the other a photograph. I think all people at some point and many creative people especially can relate to those two offerings.
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oh my lover
I don’t want to say your name
I don’t want to play your game
I feel a fool
Do you
Trouble before we start
Never can we part
But we do
We do
Never was I so into a woman like you
Never
Never was I so in love like with you
Oh Never
Never was I meant to be but with you
Only you
Never will I be for anyone but . . . you
oh oh oh oh
Features blur in sight
I’m losing my might
So into you
Oh you
Let’s play the game
I’m slowly insane
So are you
We two
Never was I so into a woman like you
oh noo
Never was I so in love like with you
oh you
Never was I meant to be but with you
no no no nooo
Never will I be for anyone but . . . you
oh my lover
Keeper of the heart, keeps us apart . . . but I’m . . . in you . . .we two. oh my loverrrrr
Inspiration
Wicked Game by Chris Isaak was covered by Phillip Phillips a fellow Southern boy. I had the words flowing through my had being in a certain somewhat melancholy mood. Then I heard Phillips’ version. The tune and rhythm was it. If you you like you can click the link to get an idea of the sound. http://youtu.be/grqrlGwoOU0
Much Respect, Much Love, & Much Heartache
Ronovan
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Arrival
Velvet kisses down your spine
Halting breaths encourage me more
Your body quivers
As I glide to further explore
My hand in your hair
As my teeth take hold
Your hips begin to move
As I become more bold
Skin so soft to my touch
As my fingertips feel along delicately
My own voice sounds
And I become engulfed in waves of your sexuality
Your hips do move
My body does glide
With one swift move
I have arrived . . .
Image Credit gettyimages © Original Photo by IMAGEMORE Co., Ltd
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The Lost Minded Heart
The Lost Minded Heart
by: Ronovan
Oh this mind I have.
It seeks to tear itself from my skull,
And scatter its sanity across the wind.
It denies me all things that I crave.
Long sequenced words to form thoughts,
Escape behind a mesh door, seen but unattainable.
This mind knows it is a piercing pain of storm and fury.
How I hate it.
It laughs and runs and races and calls and shouts and screams and twists.
Do I mind?
Ha! What mind do I have to mind with?
But how does one without a mind each day continue on?
How does the mindless give, how does it give hope?
How does the less minded give encouragement?
The Lost Mind still has heart.
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There was a Time
One man
Second chances
Three days
My life it changed
I’m free
To stand before you now
And proclaim
My life belongs to you
When I write poetry here on my blog/site I tend to reflect on the current existence of my life. Some of you can pick up on what that is. But there was a time I used to write songs, songs with a different message. Messages of hope and praise and love. I found these lyrics today from a time long ago. But even though the lyrics are old, the meaning is the same, and can never be changed.
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Lost: Death of a Creative Mind
Why did you do it
Take my mind away
I can’t even maintain focus
Fore even one day
You drove the lightning
Deep into my brain
My creations out of my reach
Slowly driving me insane
I once could write with ease
The thoughts were defined with clarity
You took it and shook it
Now my mind reads with jealousy
Short words in short rhymes
Are all I can manage
Because of the pain
Of this body with damage
I had a thought
It came yesterday
Then I fell asleep
That’s when you took it away
Don’t worry, no Sir
This is not me making a complaint
It’s not casting blame
It’s just me losing my restraint
I’ll be okay tomorrow
After the sun rises
When the moon is gone
My world is full of surprises…again
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Asphalt and Inheritance
Why, why, why?
Is this time to be torn by the pattern woven by men?
Do lives creep silently to catch a breath just for a moment in a light that will never set upon them?
Hurling through concrete hoops to land on melted asphalt to be trapped by the creations they have made.
Can they complain?
Do they have a right?
They made it.
They were the forces that shoved it down the throats of others.
Helplessness has been rewarded with gloating over the fall of the mighty movers of all.
The meek and the earth,
They shall inherit.
But is the earth our home or heaven?
The meek of what shall inherit which?
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Truth in the Unsaid.
The soul of a man,
Speaking always through words of life,
Truths are words unsaid.
Format is inspired by K.S. Fause. I still need to work on mine.
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