Migraine

Today is one of them days.

Ronovan Life , , , , ,

Some days are better than others. For some people you might dread this or that. For others it could be simply it’s cold outside. This is my morning today. Not comfortable. You do odd looking things in an attempt to get to where you want or need to be. I have a new chapter to add to a book I am writing, then finish up the last few pages to send off to my co-author for her to take a look. I have a book to read that goes out soon and I have reviewed it but changes have been made so am reading it again. I have a book to proofread. And I have more books to read for upcoming interviews.

And below is me this morning. It’s going to be a long day.

That being said. No real post from me today so I encourage you to visit my poems from yesterday.

 

Much Respect

morning

 
P.S.~No the look isn’t trying to look cool. Very cold in my room and the migraine if very bad so need some help with the light and computer screen this morning, thus the glasses.

 

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Electrocution of the Lost Mind

Ronovan Poetry , , , , , ,

Electricity Tesla

Electrocution of the Lost Mind

 

Electricity split his skull, into a cobweb of blue and white.

His eyes glowed in their sockets, but all only visible to his inner sight

 

Everyone looked at him as if he were an invalid, mad, or  insane.

Their eyes held pity, but there actions spoke shouting into his brain.

 

His darkness crept around him, from inside to the out.

Then whenever his brain exploded, no one heard him shout.

 

Faintly prancing little feet dancing into his way.

Dainty little  jade green eyes saying more than anyone could say.

 

Reality would never stay in his land for long.

In truth if it did he would forever say it was wrong.

 

Peace and quiet were to far and fleeting gone.

If he ever thought to rest, his mind would slip out in a yawn.

 

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com.

Spikes and Smiles

Ronovan Fibromyalgia/Chronic Pain, Poetry , , , , , , , ,

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.