Spring Breaks the Heart – A poem.

Spring Breaks the Heart

Swing and sway in the winds of change,
keep in time to heart’s imminent fray.
The air filled with spring’s sweet bouquet,
and love’s last fling a brief exchange.

These deep chest aches are not so strange,
nor daily sights of pain’s relief,
stealing the heart just as a thief.
Once more enter the fool’s cold dance,
wrapped in a mask of true romance.
Your guess this time of just how brief? 

How to write an Espinela or Décima poem.

My entry for this week’s Décima Poetry Challenge NO. 50 (DANCE).

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© 2021- Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.

Love hard. My #BeWoW advice to my younger self.

Dear Me,

You will go through a lot of strange moments in your life. I’m not going to tell you what they are because I wouldn’t change anything that has made me who I am today, not even the bad moments. But I do have some advice.

There are so many times you will ALLOW others to bring you down. Your heart will break, be crushed. And that’s okay, I won’t tell you who by. Go ahead and fall in love. Love. Pour your heart into it. When things don’t turn out the way you like, don’t LET it almost destroy you. Use those moments to perhaps write. You want to be a writer but may not know it yet.

Always have hope. Keep it in mind that life exists tomorrow. All those disappointments have happened and are over. You make your future today. Love, work, life? All of those moments of trial and agony? Yes, you will feel it in the moment but don’t let it eat you alive to spiritual and emotional death.

But do experience those emotional moments, they will help you in the future to handle other moments. You will become someone who can understand others with the same moments in their lives. You will be able to help people and want to help them.

Love hard. Don’t go halfway. But take your time to know who you are about to love hard. And when you know its the right person, love hard in every way. Make that person know your love is a tangible thing that exists even when you are not in the room.

Loving hard might mean you fall hard and are broken had but the experience of love filling your heart, your soul, your entire being is worth every moment. Even if it’s for a day or a week, experience it. It’s worth every it.

That’s my advice today. Let those moments of agony go and use them to make you better and love hard with everything you’ve got.

Let’s connect.









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© Copyright-All rights reserved by ronovanwrites.wordpress.com 2015

Pure and Evergreen.

I wrote you letters on your doorstep in late December
Painted through thoughts pure and evergreen

Never knew they would be so briefly held to matter
Why are they memories that won’t escape me

You don’t want to know me

Do you even care
Are you even aware
Do you ever remember loving me

Does your mind dare
Does it go there
Does it ever remember knowing me

I spelled your name in the sky through my bedroom window
Never will I be able to look that way again

I try to write a letter so you will remember
Tears blur the words until I can’t see

My heart burns so
My chest tightens to know
Please, oh please come crucify me

Loving you is a matter of a contradiction
Do you know what that means

Please, oh please you crucify me



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© Copyright-All rights reserved by ronovanwrites.wordpress.com 2015

Toward Heartbreak (Poetry)


I write this in response to another Haiku this week as I said there was a challenge of sorts there. Even though that person displayed a desire to search for feelings to move a dark soul, I know of that feeling and even though it may lead to disaster at times, it is still worth the search and the destruction.

haiku love

I wait a heartbreak,

It is inevitable

I move toward love.








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© Copyright-All rights reserved by ronovanwrites.wordpress.com 2015


Bruised Heart-A Haiku


My plan for the week was, let me actually rephrase that, I wasn’t going to write a Haiku this week. In fact there was no plan for poetry at all in my foreseeable future. It’s not that I have given it up or don’t like poetry, it’s just something I am not feeling right now. I’m not a poetry mill. I’ve been there and done that.

Writing poetry, at least for me is about tapping into an honest place and sharing honest things that can be tender places in the heart that shouldn’t be touched. Even when I write a funny poem it doesn’t begin that way. It begins serious and turns humorous out of defense. Defending the tender places.

Some reading this are likely about to hurl. They don’t see how poetry is that big of a deal or how it can really be any more than a few words to rhyme about puppies, clouds and rainbows. True, some poetry is about those things, for that writer. Perhaps those things have meanings for them. I don’t know where the inspiration came from so I can’t say good or bad.

However, even though poetry was not in the heart for me this week, which is a requirement, even though I didn’t want to go there a friend expressed a hope I would write something for the challenge I host each week. How could I not write something when so many faithfully participate each week?

haiku ronovan writes

Do not fret, my heart,

While you beat slowly for now,

The chill of loss fades.

Much Respect

RonovanWrites on Facebook


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© Copyright-All rights reserved by ronovanwrites.wordpress.com 2015

Dying More Every Day

I feel my lips 

Though you tell me

My heart keeps me

My hands impassioned


I can’t
Fight this
I don’t want to

You’re my
Heart beat
That brings me through


I feel your sighs

Causing tremblings

Desires keep finding

All my thoughts


Don’t fight
Give in
We’re meant to be

Don’t my
Last breaths
Tell you what you are to me


I feel my lips

My dreams
Keep drawing


How can
You live
Without me

As I
Lie here
Dying more every day

dying more everyday poem

Without you


Your lips upon my skin . . .





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

Forever Failure

Forever in dreams,

I am awakened by you,

In final failure.



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

My Loves: A Man’s Testimony of Heart

What kind of love do men feel? I considered searching for opinions and comparing them to what I come up with, but then I decided that since I am writing this from a man’s perspective, specifically mine, that I would just go with my own thoughts. After all, I’ve been told in the past there isn’t a doubt about my being a man. I’ve always taken that as a compliment.


What love does a man feel? I could go into the various loves of sports and foods but I’m not doing that today. Instead I wanted to discuss the real things that pull, pound, and pulverize the heart. The kinds of love that when they don’t go right, leave you feeling like you have the worst flu any man can ever have.


This is about loves for a woman. This is about the loves that men don’t talk about. This about the loves men deny that have to their friends. But if you are a man and you say you’ve never had one of these loves, then . . . count yourself blessed or else have an exam done because you are in denial.


Men get those loves. Is there a level order of love? Men think much of order in things like this. I’m not sure why and I don’t really care to delve into the why. At this moment my heart is on loves. I often wonder when it isn’t.


I see no reason to not just say I as I write this. Why not say man or men? I’m speaking from what I know. I am sure other men feel or have felt what I might talk about, but this is me. As I begin this I have no plan. What you read will be whatever comes out of me as I go. Think of this as an open heart letter unedited.


My Loves: A Man’s Testimony of Heart

by: Ronovan

Love from afar. I know her but she’s out of reach. The thought of her for a moment makes the world lighter than air but then the aching heart begins. My mind quickly tells me the truth. I fight it. I don’t want to know the truth, I just want those moments of happiness, even if they are illusions and delusions. They only harm me. Why can I not enjoy them for a moment?

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No One Can Understand

No One Can Understand

Cavan Images-Photonica

It’s my life to break, and I know what I can take

Too much every day, but I can’t seem to run away

I should know by now, there must be another way somehow

But I’m just the same, and I’ll always be to blame


I’m hopeless, hopeless for love,

No one can understand

What makes me this man


It always seems, that love is just a dream

No one can see me through, cause of the things that I do

Players play, and the bad boys are the way

But I don’t know the games, I just get burned by the flames

Why don’t I change, because this world seems so strange


I’m hopeless, hopeless for love

No one can understand

What make me this man


I walk the line, coming back time after time

No matter what the pain, no matter it drives me insane

They say loves not what I think, just pour up a drink

But I know what I know, and I just can’t seem to let go


I’m hopeless, hopeless for love

What makes me this man

I’m hopeless, love is in my sight

What makes me this man

I hold love with all my might

I’m hopeless

Hopeless for love

Yeah, I’m hopeless for love

 (If you are thinking these seem like song lyrics, well if you know the song Dead or Alive by Bon Jovi get the tune in your head and read it again.)



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‘My Best Friend’

What a wonderful story. It makes me wonder the source of the story. Is it just made up, the story of a daughter, friends, or did Nishi change the names to protect the tender hearted? You really must read this story and if your hear isn’t aching for the little girl by the end then you are heartless.
Much Admiration for This

The Showcase

twopups.jpg (425×319)

“Ann and Florence BFFs forever”

Ann loved Florence..they went to school together, she shared the chewy brown sugar cookies and peanut butter sandwiches her mother used to lovingly pack for her with Florence. Everyday after school she would reserve a seat on the bus for Florence so they could sit together on the way home back from school and all this while they would chat and laugh..They were only in the first grade but they had so much to say to each other..Little girls learn the art of gossip pretty early so that by the time they are adults they become expert architects of the grapevine. Once home Ann would do her homework, watch TV have her dinner and go to bed all the while looking forward to meeting her best friend in school.

Night gave way to morning and Ann woke up to yet another school day. The first…

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