Her will out. (A Poem)

The earth rests her heart,

While we deny her our love,

Her will replies ill.

A National Poetry Month Poem.

Click here for my April 1st Poem. (The link will open in this page.)

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Your Rewards. (Poetry)

haiku-ronovan-writes

I normally have an image with my Haiku. Today I couldn’t come up with one that matched the words that I was able to truly capture what was in my mind. Perhaps later it will come to me but for now here are the words. I believe words some of us can too often identify with. This is my one Challenge Haiku of the week. I do hope you enjoy, or rather not enjoy.

Rare Loving Moments,

Are your rewards for Your Heart,

Receiving Harsh Words?

 

 
Ron_LWI

 

 

 
 
 

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Non Accidental Events Lead to Intentional Good-True Story

Non Accidental Events Lead to Intentional Good

by: Ronovan

Sometimes you just don’t know how you ended up where you are. I’ve been in many ‘places’ over my many years and somehow they end up being connected in one way or the other. Oh, I don’t mean by actually connected in the sense that one thing knew the other but in that there was a reason one happened and ended and the next began.

Light at the end of the tunnelI had an interesting life growing up. I was born of two people who were picking oranges in the groves of Florida during a time of free love, or maybe at the end of that era really. My father from Tupelo, MS. who was a drummer, guitar playing singer who drove a truck and recorded at Sun Records in Memphis, TN. Yes that Sun Records, and yes, that’s where Elvis recorded. And no, he wasn’t Elvis.

He was also part of the Southern Mafia which led me into a few interesting situations. Ever been 3 years old and been chased down dirt roads in Florida by a man with a gun? No? I didn’t think you had. How about being back home in Tupelo, MS and having to be slung around in a truck doing a 180 because of some ‘men’ that had blocked the road to stop your father? No? Well then you didn’t get shot at and the windows shatter either.

There were other things that happened as well, all in the span of the years up to my 2nd grade in school. That’s when I ‘arranged’ for a girl on the playground to see the black belt mark across my back and run to the teacher. I had made a promise not to tell, and I was a good boy and kept my promises. I didn’t ‘tell’ anyone. After the police and social workers finished with me that day I never saw my bio father again. He and my mother were divorced anyway, so no great loss.

But through that and a series of not accidental events, because I know that all things are used for the good of life, I ended up in a situation where I worked with young people and helped many with home lives that were rough. Even the arrangement of time to work with them was an obvious non accidental event.

Even today, being here in the blog world and meeting new people, encouraging and being encouraged has been another non accidental event out of a life changing event. Good comes out of everything, no matter how bad it is, it only remains a negative influence on me/you if you let it be such.

 

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Soul Lives

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

Soul lives

Soul lives

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

Soul lives

Soul lives

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

Soul lives

 

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

Soul dies

Soul dies

 

But I don’t give . . .  my Soul Lives

 

burning_candle_snow.jpg

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Hurt Willy Reb

Ever wondered what an anti spousal poem set the tune of The Beverly Hillbillies would be like? I didn’t either but somehow that’s what I decided to write.
Why don’t y’all go read it, y’hear?
Ronovan