I CAN’T GET YOU OUT OF MY HEART

Doing all I can in the arms of another man;

It takes one to forget one.

Crying instead doesn’t get you out of my head

and it can’t get you out of my heart.

All I want to do is fall out of love with you.

You can’t say I’m not trying.

Some of the time I can get you out of my mind

but I can’t get you out of my heart.

I’ve got a lover to take away the pain

that’s hurting me not you.

You don’t feel it like I do.

Bet you’ve got a lover too.

Sometimes I wonder what good is it

if I can’t love him and I can’t have you?

I can get a brand new start

but I can’t get you out of my heart

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POEMS

all copyrights by Ronaye Hudyma. all rights reserved

* scroll down for newest poems

 

AMBUSHED

Acerbic  words sting,

 assail the air;

hurled  like a dagger with a jab to the heart. 

Fatal blows swift and sure catch me by surprise…     

I cannot breathe.                           

Your barbed tongue maims,

slices  through the tender threads of trust and        

when the curtain falls, you feel nothing. 

Of course.

I was fodder for your senses, consumed then forgotten

No investment. No expense.

Being without me is a reprieve, a temporary Fast — no snacks, no sugar.

Yet you to me were love without restraint

 sustenance for the soul

and the bonds that did bind me were not of chains–

 but a river of ribbons flowing throughout my existence.

After a taste of the Infinite, being without you  is death by starvation.

Now Both of us are confined to our corners

of opposite sides

where never the two shall meet.

SLOW DANCING

I have no volition

beyond the last  look you left in my eyes,
your last touch cold upon my skin.

The press of an unfulfilled quest

impels us us onward

beyond all reason and restraint–

slow dancing a choreographed waltz 

 until the music stops.

 The steamy tango has melted into memory.

 The bonds that hold us unbind–
Frayed ties unfastening 

as we extricate ourselves from 

the promises written as Scripture to live by

to be renounced and left lorn;

The mode, the manner and the tempo has yet to be decided.

No one wants to be the first to say goodbye.

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BOOK ANNOUNCEMENT…

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

Description:

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.

 

 

Rain clouds brood, sulk,  huddle together,

swelling around me in conference, deliberating….undecided.

Like you were.

It drizzles, like they couldn’t make up their mind.

There’s been too many tears already.

 As the days dwindle by…

If it was beauty you wanted, I was beautiful.

It it was wisdom you sought, I was wise.

If you were indecisive, I was malleable to your mood

–a paroxysm of contradiction.

Yet you came and opened your arms

rushing in to flood every fiber of my body and mind;

filling the vacuum and desperation

of my abysmal emptiness of utter futility.

Yet as you pushed me aside and away

suddenly, from the very source of sorrow came the answer,

the strength I remember

and the courage to continue without you.

For did I really lose anything?

My love for you I have not lost.

Your love for me, I never had.

I feel a progression toward some point

both within and out of time.

This is new. Not of yesterday nor stolen from tomorrow.

The union of breath and being

distant with the echo of your voice,

my prostrate self that only pretended at life

choking on the sobs of a forgotten future.

 

 THE LONG GOODBYE

 The day came in austere, with despair;  

the sun with a sneer on its face,

a surly smile, and lips curled in contempt

as a sudden squall flared in a fit of bad temper. And you left.

Don’t speak to me of love, it’s strengths or its weakness.

Let us never again utter the word or pretend its understanding.

I’ve escaped you but briefly

knowing only the fettered freedom of a derelict turned proud.

Do I wear my wisdom badly like worn dresses and yesterday’s shoes?

What if I were to tell you it is no longer so?

Can my garish exterior– like bad make up– mask my

insatiable hunger, unquenchable thirst 

to reflect love when it’s want that I wear? No.

 

The wheel spins round and round, back to the beginning

behind the screen where you barricade yourself,

barring me from entry

where I strangle on your silence 

forgetting you all over again

just when I hoped it had ended.