Upside Down – a poem.

Upside Down

 

Been in disguise since I was twenty-five,

never knowing if I should live or die.

Always thinking this world left me alone,

feeling it deeply through blood and bone.

Needing answers with these decades of doubt,

reaching for a handhold before I shout.

Then I met a small Carolina town,

flipping this Southern boy’s world upside down.

So close it hurts can touch but not feel it,

thrown up obstacles I fight to not quit.

This mask is slipping, years I’m passing through,

with no doubts I’ll live now that I found you.

 

ronovan writes poetry black words on transparent background


Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

© 2020 Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.

my pleas…please. – a poem.

my pleas…please

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dreams obscene,

thoughts so wrong.

Things your wearing.

turn me on.

What do you think I, feel when I see ya?

I’ve been stupid shy, this I can’t deny.

What is this cold fear, waitin’ for the all-clear?

Praying for a leap year, so I can see…you…dear…

That sinful grin,

jeans so tight.

I love it when,

you walk just right.

 

Skin so smooth

hair feels nice,.

Those fingertips,

I’ll pay the price.

This fire inside of me, is fighting to be free.

It needs hotter degrees., please hear my pleas.

Fire deep inside…

of me.

I’m on my…

knees.

I’m begging…

please.

Please hear my pleas.

Please hear my pleas.

Please hear my pleas.

ronovan writes poetry black words on transparent background


Sometimes I just have to let it go.


Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

© 2020 Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.

brave your colors – a poem.

brave your colors

Separate roads spread, from shore to shore,

passing through towns, locked door after door.

Where once a neighborhood, or a community park,

now you will find are places filled with dark.

 

All shades, all hues, divide people from another,

but now they separate a sister from a brother.

Where once it was skin, and so it still is,

now it includes what politics is hers or his.

 

Red, blue, green, and more around the world.

In divisive times we must brave our flags unfurled.

 

No matter your age your religion or family,

in this great land, your thoughts are yours and they’re free.

What I fear most is we will fall to our enemy

where once there was democracy, there will be anarchy.

 

If you must battle through the generations,

fight right now for our nation’s foundations.

For tomorrow is not tomorrow, it’s in five, ten, or thirty years,

by standing up now the future will have fewer tears.

ronovan writes poetry black words on transparent background

 


Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

© 2020 Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.

a haiku a poem

~*~

*

~*~

life flows with our doubt

regardless in joy or woe,

love can ebb the ache

~*~

*

~*~

 


A poem for this week’s Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge of EBB and Flow.

fall haiku challenge badge japanese maple with black and white background

How to Write a Haiku in English Form


Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

© 2020 Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.

hear me say – a poem – a letter – a message

It’s okay
What I’m saying
What I’m playing
That I’m praying
You think you know me and can show me

Hear me           Say

It’s okay
My mind’s relaying
It’s dismaying
It’s decaying
You think you know me, can control me

Here me           Say

It’s okay
I’m testifying
And I’m lying
And denying

And
And
And

It’s okay
I’m conveying
I’m portraying
And I’m fraying

And

It’s

Okay
I’m implying
And denying
And I’m dying
You think you know me, can console me

 

And
And
And
And

Is it okay
It’s diverting
to be inserting
and not be hurting

and
and

 

is it okay
i’m justifying

what you’re supplying

so preoccupying

death defying

dissatisfying

is it okay
that i pray

that i pray

that i pray

Poetry Lost Mind Image

© 2020 Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.

You need to cry…to breathe. Men, I’m talking about us…you women too.

To the artificial us, the expected supposed to be, and to humanity begging to shine through, I give you one piece of advice. Cry. I began this thread of idea to speak to the men of the world and their need to cry, in order for them to release all the pent up fears, angers, humiliations, and confusions, but the audience later broadens to be all inclusive.

Through this release through crying we, as men, might avoid the catastrophes we inevitably create for ourselves. Catastrophes created by fear of failure, anger and humiliation leading to obstinance and inflexibility. Confusion of not knowing what to do with all these feelings we’ve been told and ingrained with not to let show, let alone to allow exist inside of us. Again, the fear of that confusion because if we have these sensitive thoughts, feelings, and reactions then people might think we are more woman than man.

But, as I thought of how men in society should support man to cry, I thought also of how women should let us cry as well. Then I realized that society doesn’t allow women to cry freely without judgement either. Crying is seen as weak. Crying by a man is often thought of as showing their feminine side, as though having a feminine side is a bad thing.

This led me to the thought of why we still refer to behaviors as feminine or masculine.

I believe crying and laughter are the two most powerful healing and coping mechanisms every person has available to them, and it’s free to do either. No prescription necessary or diagnosis required.

Just as men are seen as weak for crying, so to are women. I believe that view along with that about men has led to many wrong decisions in the 20th and 21st centuries that caused great losses. This is not just an opinion I have about the U.S. but one for all countries around the world. Some even worse than America itself.

Many of us have or will experience a life altering trauma. We’re afraid to admit it, afraid to show we are scared or hurting or completely lost. A good first step is to let yourself cry. It works. I speak from experience.

So to humanity, I once again say…cry, and cry often. But also remember to laugh just as much. It’s all about balance in ones life to have a good and healthy life.

Cry like a man?
Cry like a human.
Cry like a babe calling for the need of telling the world it needs relief of something.

Wash away the poisons of loss
of grief
of fear
of anger
of the loneliness of being you.

Cry from no one listening
of no one noticing
you are no longer the you they know or you recognize.

Cry…so you can then breathe…and laugh once again.

Outlasting?

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.

My Escape.

I did not know you,

When you found me in the dark,

Seeking my escape.

 

When you least expect it, you will be rescued. During my darkest moments someone was there to take my hand, offer a kind word, and encourage me to become a human again. In the end that will be the beginning of something new and wonderful and I cannot wait until that day comes.

Dripping Melody.

Drip … drip … drip … drip … drip,

Sounds the cruel melody,

of the fatal heart.

Dripping Melody; Art and Haiku Poetry by Ronovan Hester



Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling by PS Bartlett and Ronovan Hester

Ronovan Hester is an author, with his debut historical adventure novel Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling due out in February 14, 2016. He shares his life through his blog RonovanWrites.WordPress.com. His love of poetry, authors and community through his online world has lead to the creation of a site dedicated to book reviews, interviews and author resources known as LitWorldInterviews.com.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

@RonovanWrites

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

 

Here-A Haiku and a message added. Please Read.

Oh for peace to be

Here among the clamoring,

I find loneliness.

Here a Haiku by Ronovan

Do you hear what he’s saying?



Ron_LWIRonovan is an author, and blogger who shares his life as an amnesiac and Chronic Pain sufferer though his blog RonovanWrites.WordPress.com. His love of poetry, authors and community through his online world has lead to a growing Weekly Haiku Challenge and the creation of a site dedicated to book reviews, interviews and author resources known as LitWorldInterviews.WordPress.com.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

@RonovanWrites

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

This was written because of National Suicide Prevention Month. Thousands who die don’t die alone, they die around us. They call for help but we don’t know their language. Why? Because they’ve been made to feel as though there is something socially wrong and almost illegal about themselves. If they say they are depressed what happens to them? What happens at work? How does their family treat them or look at them? Do people ignore them with a “It’ll be alright.”?

For some of us we are lucky and have that one moment of clarity, that image that comes to our mind that pulls us back just in time. Not everyone has a boy “B”. Not everyone can be strong enough or maybe has fought for themselves hard enough to make it through. The above poem and image may not get the full effect I was going for, I may try again, but it tells you how we feel. All of the world around us, so close, so loud, but we feel all alone…and we don’t know why.

For some of you reading this, just think that you would never have met some great people if not for this blog. Perhaps a person has become very important to you that you met through a post or a challenge you found here.

Share this so people have an idea. We’re not crazy. But we are just out of step with something that will make us understand what is going on inside of us. And we call for help in different ways. Try to look, try to know your family, your friend. Know their language, in words, emotions, body. And when that language changes, find out why.

Live or Not At All.

No longer does the freedom of innocence reign childlike in our hearts.
Screams, horror, crashing, waiting, hoping, praying, all for naught.
For each that fell from the skies, so many more fell in the sands, the mountains.
The cycle continues in lessons unlearned in the history of man.

Do we not know the wages of want, and the evils of maddened men?
Be swift or be not at all, do or do not at all, leave no stone asleep.
Be not the meek of minded willinglessness that brings about the falling of lives.
Do or do not.

If you do, then do for all eternity, for those who receive will return in kind.
This day we turn our daily grievances to a past moment in time.
Fear or fear not.
Live, for you will one day live not at all.

Live or not at all a September 11 poem.

Much Respect-Much Love

Ronovan



Ron_LWIRonovan is an author, and blogger who shares his life as an amnesiac and Chronic Pain sufferer though his blog RonovanWrites.WordPress.com. His love of poetry, authors and community through his online world has lead to a growing Weekly Haiku Challenge and the creation of a site dedicated to book reviews, interviews and author resources known as LitWorldInterviews.WordPress.com.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

@RonovanWrites

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

Losing it. What do I do?

There’s a saying that goes something like, “You don’t know what you got till it’s gone.” For about two years I’ve kind of laughed at that phrase. For some of us, when something is gone we don’t even know what it was which means we don’t miss it.

I’ve been fine with it. I go through each day with a new loss flittering away and I feel fine. That’s because I don’t know what flitters away. Okay, so I know something is likely being lost. I’m aware that memories are lost.

Normally I don’t stress about it because stressing leads to other problems. Recently a memory loss, a huge one, became evident—with vigor.

I’ll explain an “other” problem for a moment. Depression. Well, I don’t know that it really needs to be explained. We all know what depression is. When a memory goes away and I then have people forcing that memory back in my head, or trying to get it back in there, things happen. The brain snaps. I actually at some point feel a pop in my head. I am sure it’s not really anything physical, only a psychological representation of what is happening.

When that happens, Ronovan is gone for a time.

My huge memory loss recently led to such a situation. I would think things were going fine, then wham, another hit from a different side. Lulled into things being okay. Wham, another hit. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.

Now, here I am, depressed, physically ill, and looking for the learning lesson of it all.

Memory problems make for a bad emotional entity. They also make for a bad relationship of any type. You wake up and you don’t know if that person who is your friend, spouse, significant other, father figure is still going to be that for you.

Who is it fair to in that situation? As I’ve been writing this I’ve been sorting through it all. I suppose the best thing is if it’s a repeat offender status thing, cut and run if the situation allows for it. I know live in family members can’t do that but there are things you can do.

Accept the memory loss person (MLP) for who they are, knowing what is possible.

Be supportive in the efforts of the MLP to handle it. Think for a moment about this. You wake up, or are even going along writing or watching a video and then—WHAM—you don’t know what day it is, or what city you are in, or who that person in the other room is. Ever wonder how a person handles that each day?

Think about being in the middle of a sentence and forgetting who it is across the table from you. In this age of internet and digital conversations and friendships it’s even more difficult to remember without those constant physical/visual cues.

People might find it surprising that I wake up and have forgotten the people in my house. Or I will go through one of those situations above. My body goes through a routine each morning and I discover what my problems are and I just go with it. I’ve told myself in letters not to stress, that I am normal. This is normal for me. I tell myself to begin to write something from a list of projects I’m working on.

Sometimes memories will come back or at least enough of a familiarity to make things fine or functionable. Yeah, another of my made up words.

What about the other person, the person forgotten?

What would I do if I were on the other end of this?

I honestly can’t answer that with an all encompassing solution. I think patience is part of it, understanding, and you know maybe even just cut and run. I know people balk at that last one but it is an option. But that is the option people will focus on here because it is seen as the uncaring, cold idea and how could I even think of telling someone to do that if a person cared about the MLP or of the MLP cares about the person.

I’ve been living with this for two years. You get to the point, where after having written about it, thought about it, and lived through it, you cut through it all to the heart or heartless of it all and give solutions.

And what about the MLP? Should they keep trying to remember, opening themselves up to an emotional tug-of-war to then either go through the loss again, perhaps not knowing it, or then being shut off once a connection is established again?

What do I do?

I have no one answer for myself. Perhaps I should, it would make my life easier. Can a person live a life, a healthy life mentally without people? I suppose they can but I’m not that far gone yet.

Now, for those who look at my writing and things I share each day and think I seem normal and I have all these friendships and all, the MLP has tricks they use to get by. Don’t call out the MLP for this if you still want to be a part of their life. At least they are trying.

I’ll tell you one trick I have. It’s called the Ronovan Writes Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge. No, that’s not a plug for my challenge. I am telling you about a trick. There are people who do the challenge every week, and that means I read their work, usually at least twice, think about it, review it, see their names, and all of that every week. It doesn’t work for each person because of lack of regularity but when I see the name I know it’s familiar and once I get to their site things come back.

MLPs have sensory/emotional impressions of people if not actual memories. I know by a name, if it has been around me long enough, if that person is someone that is positive for me or negative, if that person is a friend or foe, if that person is emotionally good for me or a life drain.

When you hear that old saying about first impressions, it’s true. Make a good first impression and good last impression as well. You are asking, “How do I know when that last impression will be?” Whenever you leave the communication presence of someone, that’s your last impression until the next time you connect with them.

Well, this has been a longer message than I had planned, and I’m not sure if it is even what I had intended, but it is what it is and that’s all that it is. So, as I have just now read back through it, you might find it surprising I forgot about half of what I wrote while I was writing this. But again, it is what it is. I’m not to blame, you are not to blame, there is no blame.

Oh, I just remembered why I was writing this. Seriously. That big recent memory loss I had, like a mind wipe almost, took some important people away and broke things. Hmm, never mind. You know, I’ve tried. I think I will just deal with the depression of it all, come out the other side, and say I am what I am. It’s all I can be. Even if I don’t like it, I have to accept it or wind up on the 6 o’clock news.

 

Much Respect

Ronovan

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

Unbearable? I’m Positive.

Drawing of Mark Twain with Quote“Drag your thoughts away from your troubles… by the ears, by the heels, or any other way you can manage it.”~Mark Twain

 

“Dwelling is a house you live in, not a situation to waste your life on.”~Ronovan

 

I had great plans for writing today. I ended up with something else. Great or not is not for me to decide. I write, you read. Opinions are made. Words are put down in either situation, planned or not, the results may end up the same. I personally am okay with whatever happens.

A day meant for creating a biography of my inspiration for wanting to become a teacher, Sidney Poitier in the movie To Sir with Love, along with quotes from his autobiography lying next to my notebook and me, turned into a day of pain that many would call unbearable. I can laugh at that phrase.

People say they went through unbearable this or that. I like to ask, “If it was so unbearable, why am I am speaking to you standing up, instead of speaking over you lying down?”

My sadistic joy comes from the looks of puzzlement. Looking to the quotes I put forth at the beginning today, and my presence here in writing this article, what my opinion is on the unbearable pain I have gone through over the past few days, and specifically the past 24 hours should be apparent.

My Fibromyalgia is an ugly animal. It is one I have come to know and respect. Never become too comfortable with an animal, even a pet. Once you do, something will happen. A new trait comes out. Or maybe something totally unrelated. Hopefully to find out soon.

What have I done today?

  • I cannibalized the first few chapters of my book to create a new beginning.
  • Had a great surprise with one of my articles being selected for the KindnessBlog.com.
  • Dr. KO and I had an exchange in comments on a post that was enjoyable.
  • I have an author interview agreement with a very nice lady.
  • And every other moment I slept.

Why sleep? Sleep don’t hurt. But also, I need sleep. What I did today was make progress in many areas and rested as much as I could. Rest isn’t something I don’t normally do. Even while succumbing to Chronic Fatigue it isn’t rest I am getting.

Even now while writing this article I have stopped several times due to the pain. I rarely ever stop because of pain. An article that should have taken me 15 minutes has so far taken me over two hours.

I’ve enjoyed it. Thinking is a great pastime for me. I love to get thinky, as I like to call it. This past year and half has allowed for some great thinky times. Every day I have a thinky moment. At least one. Usually more. That’s one reason I blog. I like to use those thinky times as inspiration for articles. Be grateful I don’t put all those moments on the blog.

I mentioned earlier that I was happy with whatever the results of the article might be today. Why? I wrote. That’s why. Did I write well? Not really, but I wrote. And that is a positive day to me.

Remember to connect with me at one of the following. Well, at least one.

https://twitter.com/RonovanWrites

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Ronovan-Writes/630347477034132

https://plus.google.com/u/0/+RonovanWrites/about

Image of Ronovan Writes

 

 

 

 

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

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

Your Rewards. (Poetry)

haiku-ronovan-writes

I normally have an image with my Haiku. Today I couldn’t come up with one that matched the words that I was able to truly capture what was in my mind. Perhaps later it will come to me but for now here are the words. I believe words some of us can too often identify with. This is my one Challenge Haiku of the week. I do hope you enjoy, or rather not enjoy.

Rare Loving Moments,

Are your rewards for Your Heart,

Receiving Harsh Words?

 

 
Ron_LWI

 

 

 
 
 

@RonovanWrites
On GoodReads
On Facebook
On Google+

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

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

Not Quick Enough (A Poem of Tragedy Explained)

I hear your voicepoetry loss

Two words

They hammer at the wall

Of my mind’s death

Heaven sent

Or heart found

I am pulled from the darkness

I breathe

I grieve

I mourn

I want the death again

Why this torture for me

Why the agony of this loss

Why so here and so not

Why

Days of pleading prevail

Please, God bring my ease

Please, God bring me release

Please, God break my mind again

Please, God

Knowing but still nothing

Two words

Freeing me from death

Condemning me to worse

Why were you taken

Why

Where is the never ending joy

Where is my peace

Why does my heart need ache

Why every day

Free me from this tearing of my soul

I pray for an end

Not quick enough

 

@RonovanWrites

followmeonbloglovin

The story of a poem. Think of a man who is in the hospital and unconscious. He hears a voice calling to him, he sees a face. He sees a little girl’s face. He opens his eyes to a place he doesn’t know, with a broken mind. The little girl isn’t there. Where is she? The little girl was never born. She called out to the man. It wasn’t his turn. She used what she could to tell him it just wasn’t his time yet.

Flash forward and the man remembers about the little girl. He remembers who the little girl is. He wants it to be his time. But his time is not quick enough. He wants the memory to go away. But it won’t go away quick enough.

I have seen comments to this poem and I have even seen poems written as  a response in which I am tagged in. Thank you for the thoughts and the words, but the suppositions are nowhere near the mark. This is one that cannot recover, cannot be brought back, cannot be made to have a better day. If  you pray, pray I forget that I once gain forget the memories that came to me that inspired this poem. Please do so.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

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

Free Me To Death-A Haiku

haiku-ronovan-writes

Two words created to inspire creativity. For some it pulls out of them a positive and uplifting experience as they tap into either a fun and joyful memory or moment. For others it may be the complete opposite. That is the magic of words. You never know for certain what will be brought to the mind, even to the mind of the one creating the words. Or perhaps for some there is no surprise where this lost mind travels.

haiku poetry

I hear you calling,

Forcing my lost mind to break,

You free me to death.

much-respect-ronovan

@RonovanWrites

followmeonbloglovin

 
 

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

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

Remnants

remanants_haiku_ronovan.jpg

I hunt through these cracks

For remnants of a lost dream

Search the wind that tears.

 

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

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

Truth buried deep within… (A poem)

The truth of it is,

Something you don’t want to know,

Is my love runs deep.

How deep you may ask,

Does it run into this man,

Whose truth is a search?

That truth is a loss,

Of something he cannot find,

Buried dark and deep.

But with truth in love,

I will return to the light,

So deep in us all.

silhouette of man looking out window with flare
gettyimages © Original Photo by Tara Moore

Ronovan~11~19~2014

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

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

Dream Helper . . .

Losing time for no reason other than pain riddled life
Why have I been given this disease of grief and strife
Have I been punished for a life I don’t know of
Is the enemy torturing me so I deny that from above

Weathered bones and depleted nerves
I wander through the days wondering what this life serves
Pushing my cart of rotting dreams gone bad
Longing for things that I wish I had

The lightning strikes through skull and soul
I lie awake nights as the time slowly takes its toll
I arise each day to be the happy one
As I dread the appearance of the dawn breaking sun

But who will be the one to carry on the days cheer
If I am the one that decides to no longer be here
Yes, I am at times lower than the low
But I know I must pick myself up and continue to go

I am the encourager, the uplifter these are my gifts
My goal each day is to keep people on the path of dreams, no drifts
I have thought my life goal was to share my words to the extreme
But now as I write I know I am here to help you with your dream

dream_helper

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

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

Screams Pain

Misunderstandings

Release destruction on earth,

Like a haunt screams pain.

 

 Man in Pain

 

(my first for my prompt challenge this week of haunt&release-scent of fear.)

Ronovan

 

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

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