Reality – a poem


a frozen tundra,

the heart of a broken soul

the truth’s final path


This is my entry for this weeks Haiku Poetry Challenge of DESERT and Path.

There are details in the prompt on how to write a Haiku.

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© 2014-2022-  Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.



Man in pain beside poem on right.

Stuck in a rut with no way out.

Opening my mouth but you can’t hear me shout.

Locked here in this world alone with my doubt.

Directions to safety keeps telling me to reroute.

My positivity has been my fingertip of hope.

Lately I’ve been sounding more like a garbage eating billy goat.

I keep slipping and sliding up and down a well traveled slope.

My plans so sabotaged I feel on the verge of a Virginia Woolf note.

The love for life counted down till it came.

And all those blissful imaginings… went up in a flame.

The clock hit zero and that pain I’ve held back…my brain is lame.

My mind limps and stumbles with fatigue and shame.

To change the world takes so much of your light.

You pull yourself up but find you haven’t enough fight.

You claw at limbs to see the white light.

Try as you may you just don’t have the might.

I still hang on to one thin strand.

Feeling the whole time that I wait on grains of sand.

My heart burns and it aches with each weak demand.

When I last close my eyes I hope to be in a new land.

I Begin to Fail

Stars fail to break through the clouds

The blanketing darkness suffocates

Heat grabs at my flesh

As I race through night to escape


Sounds follow as if unafraid

What is there plan for this time

My legs begin to fail

As the stumbling brings forth reality


Why did I bother ever running

This body can no longer do such

With each increasing crackling sound

I am reminded of my failing too much









There it is finally capturing me

I feel the fingers on my spine

Time has run out

My body stiffens as the searing begins


The fingers burn deeply within

Carving and severing bone

Ribbons of pain flow outward

Sucking the air from my depressed lungs


I succumb as I do each time

Never able to outrun this pain giver beast

This body depleting reaper

That creeps through my every piece



2014 © Copyright-All rights

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.)



2014 © Copyright-All rights

Spikes and Smiles

Spikes and Smiles

by: Ronovan


Dull railroad spikes through the cracks

Driven constantly as if driven by insanity

Days go by in countless fogs of phantoms

Drifting in and out of vague humanity


Ever wanting to continue onward in smiles

Enters pressing of matter into the prickling race

Even the muscles of effort to upturn lips

Engraves lines of pain on tender skinned face


© Copyright-All rights 18, 2014.

My poetry Tears at Me

My poetry Tears at Me

by: Ronovan

 Lost Man in Chair


I’m sorry my words don’t speak in romantic filled embraces.

My language is built from elementary understanding of feelings.

I attempt to translate my true thoughts into a message to convey.

Above all my words are meant for my own wounds’ self healings.


My page opens with clear intent for a jovial sharing.

By the second word typed the mindlessness takes control.

It’s not that things don’t make me laugh or I find comical.

But in my world the only thing full of ideas is the crazy bowl.


Left to my own creative and undirected devices I stray.

What comes out of my fingertips are words that I never would share.

I wonder sometimes what the powers that be would do with them.

But I push the letters in their neat little rows and print them as if I didn’t care.


Therapy of the mind and heart is what some people call poetry.

For me it’s the feeling of razor blades over delicate skin tearing at me.

I lay here exposed and bleeding as the words and thoughts force their way free.

But whatever people may say of this they know I must be what I am to be.


© Copyright-All rights 14, 2014.