Long Gone – A poem.

Long Gone

I loved those days, him in his swing,

and those when he giggled to swim.

Hopes to play in the big boy gym,

or watch Pooh and Pig’et and sing.

 

Now I see him sinking, drowning,

‘neath pressure not meant his to be.

I reach out to lift the weight free,

receiving rebukes for my care.

Being told it’s not my affair,

just a father in name only.

 

My entry for this week’s Décima Poetry Challenge No. 26 SWING.

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

Mad Mad…what was I talking about again? A poem.

Today, Tuesday, October 6th, is Mad Hatter Day, so get your imbecilic nonsense on. I know I did.

Mad Mad…what was I talking about again?

I’m neither here nor there but yonder
smudging the windows of your pains.
Did you know I’ve been seen in seines,
while you stink of Salamander?

Have I seen a girl, much blonder,
than that tailored swift one just there?
Such a question is plain not fair,
I’ll be the hook of her next trill.
But she’ll not catch me standing still
for I’ll pull out my Joyn Mayair.

What was I talking about again poetry image Mad Hatter.

 

You might have a bit of fun figuring out some of the words and how they’re used in the story of the poem. Some happened by accident when I read back through. And with a little word change here and there, it jelled. I even ventured into the Lord of the Rings stories, but fortunately thought better.

My entry for this week’s Décima Poetry Challenge No. 25 STILL.

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

Love in the Air.

Love in the Air

On soft breeze a divine bouquet
her invitation is discrete,
to imbibe in her gifts so sweet,
and my heart with joy must obey.
Eternal beasts come into play.

Distance is an icy lover,
these shivers I cannot cover.
Time will tell the battles end.
I’ll travel along that soft wind,
to love to rediscover.

Now you know.

One of my favorites back when I knew how to write what I called lyrical poetry…or poetry of any kind at all.

ronovanwrites

Slippin’ into sideways single again, thinkin’ I know what’s the best thing for my friend.
Never seein’ I’m the one playin’ a fool, keep trippin’ into a funk deeper than a city cesspool.
Do you ever think you want your own time, oh but you keep missin’ when she’s out of your line?
Then you look into her eyes, her heart and you play it off like a chump, thinkin’ you’re so cool.

Love’s not a playground for the child or the immature clown painted on society’s scripted scene.
Expectations of your world can bring you down to your knees and shatter your deepest dreams.
Where do you go from here when all you know is the beaten down lovers lost melody hit machine?
Words rhymed and bought to break your heart and rip your pockets for every cent at the seams?

Fill your heart, feel the steam.
Let it…

View original post 314 more words

Never Give Up

Life
Will
Never
Defeat me.
I’m
All
I’ll
Be needing.

Some
Like
to be
Conceding
But I’ll Never
Give up
No Never Give up.

Skies
Are
Blue
Up above.
My
Life
Fits
Me
Like a glove.

No
I
May
Never Know
Of
Love.
But I’ll Never
Give up
No Never Give up.

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@RonovanWrites

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

Love Crutch

What cha playin’ at
Think you’re something worthy but your times up
Times up
Times up
So why don’t you just shut up.

Yeah, I’m talkin’ ’bout you
Holdin’ court like you somebody big and tough
Big ‘n Tough
Big ‘n Tough
You’re nothin’ but a chump.

Why do I keep sinkin’, over a stupid weak in,
my armor?
Do you think I’m
a charmer?

Some people like to lay down and say,
they’re prayin’.
But all they do is
keep payin’.

I don’t want a banker to be my heart taker.
Taker
Taker
Do be a faker.

I want a free thinker, shrinker, a love drinker.
Drinker
Drinker
A love strike sinker.

Why do I keep thinkin, about your ever blinkin’?
Your eyes keep sinkin’.
Borin’ holes into my dreamin’.
A home run knockin’ win.

I’m not one to tell much.
But I keep longing for your touch.
Baby I need you in a clutch.
You’re my love crutch.

Love Crutch Image


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

Now you know.

Slippin’ into sideways single again, thinkin’ I know what’s the best thing for my friend.
Never seein’ I’m the one playin’ a fool, keep trippin’ into a funk deeper than a city cesspool.
Do you ever think you want your own time, oh but you keep missin’ when she’s out of your line?
Then you look into her eyes, her heart and you play it off like a chump, thinkin’ you’re so cool.

Love’s not a playground for the child or the immature clown painted on society’s scripted scene.
Expectations of your world can bring you down to your knees and shatter your deepest dreams.
Where do you go from here when all you know is the beaten down lovers lost melody hit machine?
Words rhymed and bought to break your heart and rip your pockets for every cent at the seams?

Fill your heart, feel the steam.
Let it flow,
She’s in your bloodstream,
You’re not alone,
Now you know.

Feel her love, feel her deep,
Intense and low,
You’re denied peace in sleep,
You’re addicted,
And now you know.

Now you know.

Oh. Oh.

Slippin’ sheets across sensations of last nights slumbered distress.
Comin’ to an end of your sweet dreams of silk and a whole lot less.
Is it a wonder you haven’t been in the pop culture extreme obscene?
Lipstick and perfumed skinned is all you need confess.

Tender kisses with restrained passion desires.
Pressin’ into her flesh, flames the fires hotter and hotter.
Openin’ my eyes will send my despair even higher.
Seconds slip by, throat’s so dry, needin’ her lips like life givin’ water.

Fill your heart, feel the steam.
Let it flow,
She’s in your bloodstream.
You’re not alone,
Now you know.

Feel her love, feel her deep,
Intense and low,
You’re denied peace in sleep,
You’re addicted,
And now you know.

Now you know.

Oh. Oh.

Givin’ in to the spin of this need.
Hatin’ the pain to concede,
The passing time, I need to heed,
When this love is so high like the tide,
Of a raging sea.

Fill your heart, feel the steam.
Let it flow,
She’s in your bloodstream.
You’re not alone,
Now you know.

Feel her love, feel her deep,
Intense and low,
You’re denied peace in sleep,
You’re addicted,
And now you know.

Now you know.


 


Amber WakeRonovan Hester is an author, with his debut historical adventure novel Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling due out in February of 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 a growing Weekly Haiku Challenge and the creation of a site dedicated to book reviews, interviews and author resources known as LitWorldInterviews.com.

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@RonovanWrites

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

Bag O’bones-Biddle

black cat transparent
 
 
Ticky tocky ricky rocky
The cat hummed its favorite tune
Watching from overhead
All snug in its rafter bedLarge-Cat-Paw-Transparent-left-down
It knew dinner would be coming soon.

Pebbles rittled and rattled
Night mice skittled and skedaddled
The man skipped to the beat of his head
Though the house up ahead was in gloomLarge-Cat-Paw-Transparent-right-down
And the beaten head needed a bed.
 
Bag O’bones-Biddle
Watched the skipping man’s skediddle
A smile spread across his big shroom
He turned to stoke the cooling fire
And swept up ashes with a broom.
 Large-Cat-Paw-Transparent-left-down
“Greetings  my good dear friend,”
The man said to O’Bones-Biddle as if kin.
“Might I partake of a spare piece of floor?
As the night has come on quickly
And I find myself without safety of a door.”
 Large-Cat-Paw-Transparent-right-down
The answer was yes,
O’bones-Biddle was quick to confess.
“Pardon the house it’s not as I wish.
My keeper has all but left.
But he makes a delicious dish.”
 
The night’s dinner was thin
“Too much is a sin.”
The skipping man said in fun.
“Or so the saying goes”Large-Cat-Paw-Transparent-left-down
O’bones-Biddle nodded. “It’s a good one.”
 
“I wonder this night,
If by chance you just might,
Help an old man such as me?”
Bag’s spoke in a voice
To bring pity upon one such as he.
 Large-Cat-Paw-Transparent-right-down
“Of course I may,
Anything you might say,
Of this grateful stranger.”
The man did smile
Not the least aware his danger.
 
“I hope it’s not much trouble.
With two we may carry double,
And the fire will be stocked up as could be.”
Bag O’bones-Biddle went out the door.Large-Cat-Paw-Transparent-left-down
The man belched, sated and hunger free.
 
“Pardon me, your dinner was divine,
It was the best I’ve had in quite some time.”
“Thank you, kind sir. It was the last in my larder.”
But to fill it once again,
I need not look much farther or harder.”
 Large-Cat-Paw-Transparent-right-down
Ticky tocky ricky rocky
The cat hummed its favorite tune
Watching from overhead
From its rafter bed
Shaking its head at the buffoon.
 
First one load then two
Back and forth the men flew.
Wood stacking up higher.
“What all of this
You could build a bonfire.”
 Large-Cat-Paw-Transparent-left-down
“Oh no, dear me,
I am no one for a party.
But I like to be prepared for a dish.”
Bag O’bones-Biddle took up is fiddle,
“I’ll play whatever you wish.”
 
“Oh, I don’t think so.
It’s time for bed, you know.”
And the man looked about for a way.
O’bones-Biddle, ignored the denialLarge-Cat-Paw-Transparent-right-down
And with a drawing he began to play.
 
“Ticky Tocky Ricky Rocky
That was what me Mum sung.
Ticky Tocky Ricky Rocky
Until the day she was hung.”
Bag O’bones-Biddle played and hummed.
 
The man danced and danced,
Though the music was un-balanced.
“What are you doing to me, you’re mad?
I can’t do this much more,
Or me heart will burst and I’ll be had.”
 Large-Cat-Paw-Transparent-left-down
Bag O’bones Biddle stepped to the man,
His hands fiddled as fast as a fan.
The man backed his back away,
Toward the rolling boil,
Whose fire had helped stoke to stay.
 
The cat sat and it watched through the pane.
Seeing nothing as wrong but all for its gain.
For it knew it would not be too long,
Once the fiddle began,
And heard Bag O’bones-Biddles’ mum’s song.

Large-Cat-Paw-Transparent-right-down
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 



 

Ronovan Hester is an author, with his debut historical adventure novel Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling due out in December of 2015. He shares his life as an amnesiac and Chronic Pain sufferer through 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.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

I ain’t lazy, maybe a little crazy. (A Poem.)

They call me insane for my constant author campaigns.
But who is to say someone else will come up with my way?
Look to the left and then to the right, then you might say who might be a might.
Set up the way for a better day to display what authors have to say.

Yes, I am crazy, but you can’t call me lazy.
I might be a bit touched, but who isn’t by much?
Would you rather not gather and foam at the mouth in a lather,
As you sit, and don’t hit, while your book don’t sell spit?

It’s not all on me, as you will see, you gotta make it be.
You will be a part, as I start, and leave a remark.
Don’t know what I’m talking about?
Listen up and you’ll hear people shout.

 

 

A new author support site I insanely created.
https://authorssupportingauthors.wordpress.com/

AuthorsSupportingAuthors

Let’s connect.

https://twitter.com/RonovanWrites

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

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

ronovan-profile-bw

 

 

 

 

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

Be Original (A Poem)

You want a poem, that’s not the norm?
You came to the right place to be slapped in the face.
Here are the words that go down as they come.
Today it’s the Lost Mind which they are from.
 
You say you got game but all you do is blame.
Bring on a word, something I haven’t heard.
Cry me a river is a song of tears, it’s the one Britney’s PR team fears.
The girl gone cheating, now whose albums are beating?
 
Old hat, my mind’s a ding bat, I like my cat, but you done known that.
Is it life, of strife, a back stabbed knife, I will keep to survive?
I ain’t rhyming, to keep the timing, for the pale faced miming, the poetic climbing.
Stay in your cave, behave, don’t be a slave to the rave or you lose to the suck-up tidal wave.
 
Stretch yourself to the limit so you know you are here to stay and are in it to win it.
Staying in one place, keeps you perplexed and vexed with a smirk on their face.
You’re scratching your head, wondering what it is I said, cause you can’t understand the way the words you’ve been fed.
It’s okay that you don’t know, because I ain’t here to put on a show, I love to put words down that flow.

Let’s connect.

https://twitter.com/RonovanWrites

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

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

Image of Ronovan Writes

 

 

 

 

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

 

You got no Hook

You got no Hook

by Lost Mind Poet

loser.jpg

 

You’re stealing my patterns

You’re taking my rhymes

Boy you best be prayin’

Cause I be hearin’ them chimes

 

A common thief

A petty crook

You look to me

Cause you got no hook

 

Play on you silly boy

And you’ll find yourself hollow

Cause when I finish with you

You won’t have even one last follow

 

You didn’t think I would notice

Imitation is a compliment

I guess you about to learn

A difference to your astonishment

 

Take your burglary

Carry it to the max

I got originality

While your head needs ex lax

 

 

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com.

Female Focus Friday Reblog: Murder she wrought! AWESOME! or nuts…

Nishi is either really insane or this is like incredibly original and funny. I mean seriously. I had to Reblog this For Female Feature Friday. Go check it out and get your knives read!!!!!
Much Respect
Ronovan

The Showcase

The Farmers Wife or shall we call her Mrs Farmer was getting dinner ready at home..It was almost midday and the farmer household was quiet. The oldest of Mrs. F’s six was out in the field with Mr. Farmer and the little ones were at different spots all carrying out their allocated chores after they had come back from school. There was absolutely no dearth for work around the house and no one was too young to do their part.

She moved around the kitchen whilst preparing dinner. The Farmers were having meatloaf that evening and as she heard the kitchen timer ding, using her oven mitts she took out her signature dish out of the oven and slowly placed it on the kitchen counter. As the delicious aroma filled her kitchen, she turned to where the carving knives were placed and she could’nt help feeling a tingling sensation pass…

View original post 267 more words

Brilliant George

Brilliant George

by: Ronovan

Dearest George,
I must admit a fondness for your brilliance. You shine in the sun with metallic glints. But it makes me wonder though, why you are valued at only 25 cents.

Much Admiration
Ronovan

 

Monkey Bars

Monkey Bars

by: Ronovan

Monkey Bar

They say the place is a real swinging joint

There is hardly a place for any cars

So why is the place so popular you ask

Because of Darwinian laws they now have monkey bars

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 17, 2014.

Could of been Cut! one choice-my life

Could of been Cut! one choice-my Life

by: Ronovan

 I love you so much

Testify to a travesty that happened from birth

You don’t even know it but you were given worth

All these hooplahs laying down their monkey laws

Let me tell you test tube lovers I ain’t got a tail in my draws

 

You say kill ‘em and let ‘em just die on the floor

But I say that life is worth the living and the dying for

Am I making a statement of opinion and of my facts

You betcha bottom dollar and I’m not holding any back

 

The big guy came down and he walked up that hill

He let them lay him down and drive spikes to kill

You think he did that so we could throw it all away

No, uh uh, not to my way of thinking no way

 

I was unintentional at 17 and a decision was made

Fruit picking in the groves near the everglades

I should of could of and would of been cut

But something spoke out and said no, that’s enough

 

Wait a minute, you ain’t got a right to say nothin’

Your body ain’t the one made for this discussion

I know what I know and I say what I love

And what I do know is…God gave life from above.

 

 

Respect for you and Your Choices

As I wish for you to have for Me and Mine

Much Love

Ronovan

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 11, 2014.

Nonsense and Such: Music Scales and Lakes Sub Par-Nonsensical Poetry?

Nonsense and Such: Music Scales and Lakes Sub Par-Nonsensical Poetry?

by: Ronovan

 Hands Glasses

You try to lick depression

But you depress the tongue

 

While the rise of a music scale is a step

To scale a ladder you climb a rung

 

You can be stabbed in the back

And take a shot in the arm

Both can occur

Without any harm

 

If you break your back

You go to a chiropractor for the aching

But then why do they say

Such a one’s work is back breaking

 

Why is there something

Called A Bridge Too Far

Was the river too short

Was the lake sub par

 

The thunder roars but has no voice

The mime doesn’t speak but that’s by choice

Perhaps it’s just by my own delusion

But all of these things seem to add to my confusion

 

You may wonder why my mind wanders so

Well perhaps you don’t really even want to know

But since the question is already out there

It’s because my mind was left…on the hallway stair

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 11, 2014.

Bus Stop Stories: Society Killin’ Villain (A Poem And Commentary)

Bus Stop

You think you know it

What is this neighborhood

But the truth is for real

A truth you’ve never understood

 

There isn’t any violence

We got no old age attacks

Young men wear jeans

And old ones Armani slacks

 

You keep just keep on talking

About crime you don’t know

Bring all your cameras in here

Faking like a reality show

 

You’re not from here

Don’t talk like you know me

Your style is so weak

You have to steal creativity

 

Take no offense

At what I’m deliverin’

Cause you’re just the most recent

Of society killin’ villain

 

You come in here

Trying to make us look bad

When all you ever do

Is play up to some cheap trending fad

 

Who’s the real big man

When it comes to society

The man who spreads lies

Or the one with integrity

 

We may not all have

All the things that you’ve got

But where I’m from

We choose what we’ve not

 

See those two oldies

Those walking over there

When I was born

They gave my mom a high chair

 

That man over there

He just lost his wife

But you know what

We keep helping him with life

 

This is our home

Not some TV stereotypes

It takes all kinds

Even some like you lowlifes

 

So take your cameras

And your promises

Then move your behinds

Off our premises

 

The film crew didn’t really know what to do at that point as Rod finished. The crowd that had gathered was cheering and that seemed to give the crew a clue. They and their slum dressed star slipped away as the bus started to slow down. Rod was a hero. A hero in our small block of the town.