A Great Life.

You ever have someone make you feel as though you were incapable of doing things, like you were an invalid of sorts?

Having Fibromyalgia, among other things, seems to give people some right to make claims over what I can and cannot do. Yes, I will hurt a lot if I exert myself too much. Does that mean I stop living?

“Never stop fighting until you arrive at your destined place – that is, the unique you. Have an aim in life, continuously acquire knowledge, work hard, and have perseverance to realise the great life.” A.P.J. Abdul Kalam was the 11th President of India from 2002 to 2007. A career scientist turned politician…(Wikipedia)

I guess one needs to determine what their destined place is. Once determined, then decide what fighting means. One also must come to realize what ‘great life’ means for them. Your great life may not be my great life. In fact, I can guarantee it’s not. How can I be sure?
I already know what great life means for me.
It takes a lot to fight. I call it sticking to my guns. Once you make a decision you must follow through with it. Many things will be thrown in your way. Sometimes they even make a lot of sense. You are momentarily sidetracked, waylaid. The goal, the great life is still ahead and still attainable, but the path is now muddied and rather being in a car you’re on foot.
The thing is, why are you now on foot? It’s because you let it happen. You let doubt and fear get in the way. Fear comes in many forms. You may fear some physical reaction. Maybe it’s a form of emotional abuse that attacks you and attempts to prevent you from arriving at your destination.
Yet, here I am, taking steps to enjoy my life. Just because my life doesn’t match the everyday ordinary vanilla expectations of those around me doesn’t mean that it’s wrong. It doesn’t mean it’s bad. You would be surprised at how little in my life these past few years would have been accomplished if I caved at every turn.
Here I am. Come and take me.

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© Copyright-All rights reserved by ronovanwrites.wordpress.com 2016

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?

Just accept and shut up!

Why do I have to accept?depressed_woman_black_white.jpg

Why do I have to take it?

Why do I have to bear the burden?

Why do I have to face it!?!


Why does my happiness not matter?

Why is everything I do so wrong?

Having to pack your yell’s into my heart!

Letting the hurt build up until I explode!


I start to focus on myself

And you complain.

I’m such an egoist





While I wilt


Like a dead flower

Rotten in your eyes.

Forever having to except all that you dish out

Never being able to express myself

Or complain.

Because you sit

You work long hard stressful hours

And I am selfish

And not what

You expect me to be.


Just Kind and caring

Guess it does not matter

Because I will always be

Nothing in your eyes.



~Anonymous 1~


I received this poem from someone who wanted share it but had no place it could be shared. I think you can guess why. It was an honor that this person felt comfortable enough and trust me enough to ask me to put it on my site. I think whether you are male or female in a relationship you can identify with this.

The tags chosen for this poem are mine. I am sure there should be others but the important part is the poem was shared.

Much Respect



2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved by ronovanwrites.wordpress.com

Stone Heart

Tender faced tears end,

With drying fists of anger,

You make stone walled hearts.

gettyimages © Original Photo by studioscape






Stone Heart

by: Ronovan







Image Credit: gettyimages © Original Photo by studioscape

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-July 02, 2014.

Truth in a Picture

This has been linked to so I’ve reblogged it for today. It’s a bit of a truth of the women’s side of an issues. Please read, you don’t have to click like, but at least read and get a perspective.
Much Respect


Truth in a Picture

by: Ronovan

You call me beautiful with your glance.

I get that a lot.gettyimages © Original Photo by nikkivanoostende.com

You like my eyes with their vacant stare

I don’t see you.

You see sexy in them, don’t you?

I see through you.

You say I have the perfect little nose.

I breathe, just.

You want to kiss my full red lips.

They sigh, barely.

I despise being an image for men to want.

nikkivanoostende - CopyYou want me.

My eyes are vacant from being broken.

You don’t see.

I feel dirty and used and pained by him.

You see sexy.

I barely breathe when he hurts me.

You love my nose.

My lips bleed without a scream.

You want them.

Image Credit: gettyimages © Original Photo by nikkivanoostende.com

Copyright-All rights reserved-©RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 28, 2014.

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