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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.

 

 

RENAISSANCE

More than anything,

I want to remember the tender things

in a renaissance of every memory I have of you…

barefoot on Santa Monica beach under a canopy of stars

against a backdrop of an ocean song playing…

the waves crashing upon the shore

the echos of our sighs rising to a crescendo

as we made love draped in darkness

and forbade the sun to rise.

After  coming home…how I defied submitting to sleep

fearing I’d lose you–

how sacrilegious to dream of someone else– 

then the joy of opening my eyes and seeing you beside me,

feeling the comfort of your warmth next to mine;

when, still drowsy in the dark, 

the night assured me you were mine for a few hours more.

You need no sight, sound or touch to define you.

I sensed you, not perceived you,

knew you by your presence–

A creation complete when God found expression through you.

And then the lingering hangover of every heartbreak

from too many bad choices, too many regrets–

that holds us, binds us together in bondage

with invisible strings;

and forever will, until time overtakes us,

’til we take our last breath,

and slip back to the source from whence we came.

A BOOK OF REVELATION

There is no sunset,                   

Only darkness closing in–

the black ink of night spilling upon the pages

of what was once great literature, 

now ending as cheap fiction.

You were written as indelible and

I, only penciled in, then erased.

There are no stars over the marquee, no blinking lights.

It was me who crowned you King of Hearts–

a bit player with a walk-on-part

eclipsed by your shadow, waiting in the wings

for a chance to be your leading lady.

After all these years, all these tears, 

you are gone, like you never were.

Every thought is dissonant with how little I meant to you,

every breath a negation of life

and  how little time I actually spent with you.

There was no you, there was no me.

 My mind conceived you, my heart deceived me 

Until a cold-water awakening

yanked me out of my stupor

from a worldliness sleep

into realms of wakeful truth,

ripping the residue of what remained as love from my eyes.

These words are all I leave you– 

not as a kiss or a touch,

perceptible only by pen and paper.

THE SOUND OF GOODBYE

You turn away when I look into your eyes.

They tell the truth that you try so hard to hide.

Do you think she can take my place?

You can lie but it’s on your face.

I swear that I hear the sound of goodbye.

Is it as good as you thought that it would be?

Or do you lie in her arms and think of me?

Say no more. What’s that sound?

Do you hear someone call out loud?

I swear that I hear the sound of goodbye.

It’s the beat of my heart crying out from the pain.

It’s the sound of my tears coming down, falling like rain.

It’s voice of a memory that will not die.

It’s the echo of love. The sound of goodbye.

One of these nights she’ll leave you alone

And you’ll be the fool watching love go.

Please come back before it’s too late.

Do you hear something breaking?

It’s the beat of my heart crying out from the pain.

It’s the sound of my tears coming down, falling like rain.

It’s voice of a memory that will not die.

It’s the echo of love. The sound of goodbye.

Listen to the Song on YouTube

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.

TRACES

 Love dies slowly;

seeps, as if drained from an open vein

drop by drop, unnoticed,

imperceptible as a thought

while the starved heart quietly expires.

Like you, I want to say things that mock the pen

but there is little need.

I sense it as if it were tactile.

 Still…traces of you linger,

 indelible imprints;

 your memory the messenger

 instilled, encoded and continued

 in my body, blood, and brain

 –an exact replica

waiting to be born again.