Coming soon – The upcoming release of Ronaye’s  book by British publisher in London, England; to be available on Amazon.


                 …with a broken wing
Expressions of
the Human Spirit

poems by Ronaye Hudyma


Whether contemporary, classic, or peppered with Elizabethan eloquence, this profound ensemble of 130 poems is not stationary. They move as if conducted with a maestro’s baton –fluid between the euphoria of life and love, the drama, the anguish of death and loss, with every nuance of human emotion spilling upon the pages.

They are poignant words written with the transparency of youth, gathering maturity and experience, evolving to wisdom, into the spiritual realm.

This is not just poetry. There are a million stories in each poem. Once for each of us. From the teenager discovering their individuality, the young adult challenged by relationships and the world around them, to the Elder denizens of Earth, who cherish their memories as veterans of life, this is a book to be read and reread, a keepsake to console, embrace and affirm your recognition of the truth within yourself that is already there.





And shall I tell you my dreams, too,

to publicly deface them and make a

harlot out of Snow White?

My apple is poisonous now, no longer sweet,

and I give it to you in truth, not jest.

Your masquerade did prey upon my innocence,

O uncharming prince –master of deceit.

 Your trickery dislodged my understanding,

and I fled crippled by your mockery.

Magic mirror never lies.

Who’s the fool? Him or I? 


You lead me into the shadows and every part of me says yes.

Though you speak with just your eyes, I understand and follow,

 falling into the willing arms of darkness and forbidden love–

a combustible combination that burns a hole into the night and leaves no trace on the dawn.

The shutter of life clicks.

My mind’s camera snaps into permanence

an indelible picture of us caught and captured

in moments stolen like thieves.

Oh the anguish to always see this vision;

the way you look at me, command me,

and I obey

then yield to this relentless madness

 driving us, pushing us forward toward its inevitable demise;

and yet I race toward the edge like the lemmings

that leap to their own self destruction.

Would that we were free!


 Why is it me who always falls in love?

Why can’t it be me who never does?

Why is it me who’s the one who loses in the end?

Someone got hurt. It’s me again.

Why is it me?

 Why is it me who gets the broken heart?

Why can’t he be the one to fall apart?

Why is it me all the time? Me who always cries?

I’d like to be the one saying goodbye.

But it’s not me.

When’s it my turn? It just isn’t fair.

When’s it my turn not to care?

Let it be somebody else trying to forget.

Someone is leaving. It’s me being left.

Why is it me?

 When will I learn that lovers only lie?

I just get burned putting out the fire.

Wish it were him instead of me that’s feeling all the pain.

Wish it were him that’s saying why is it me.

Why is it me?

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