Reality
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.
© 2014-2022- Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.
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.
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 reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com
No One Can Understand
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 reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com
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 reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 18, 2014.
My poetry Tears at Me
by: Ronovan
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 reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 14, 2014.
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