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.




I don’t hear no whistles. I don’t hear no bells.

Baby, we just keep our hearts to ourselves.

No falling, no crawling. I’m no puppet

’cause there ain’t no strings.

It ain’t the real thing. It ain’t flying ‘cause it don’t have wings.

My head is on my shoulders, feet on the ground.

Don’t get as high, but it ain’t so far down.

No problems. We solve them. Not a thing’s gone wrong.

We just go on.

We do the right thing and keep on cruising along.

It ain’t the real thing. It ain’t the real thing.

So we can’t call it love.

It ain’t the real thing pulling on my heart strings.

But it’s a good thing and that’s good enough.

Don’t have the heartaches, don’t get uptight.

It don’t have the kick but I don’t get the bite.

Don’t knock it, don’t stop it. No need to rock the boat

to stay afloat.

It’s a sure thing. It don’t need fixing if it don’t get broke.

Don’t knock it. Don’t rock it. This ain’t no sinking ship. This is it.

It ain’t the real thing but close as we’re going to get.

It ain’t the real thing but it don’t get better than this.

click here to listen to the song


The sound of your voice wandered into my heart

and I inhaled you,

your very breath breathing through every inch of me,

reverberating against the hollows in my head to the depths of my toes.

You fought

but I wouldn’t exhale.

I hum rather than sing out.

I wanted to feel you struggle against my lips.

See how clever you are?

You tickle my tongue

so I must laugh out loud

and release you.


My heart quickens as I hear you speak,

your voice coming to life, your words animated

 as I watch them–like magic–

transform into effervescent bubbles

bouncing around me, dancing towards me

 as if pulled by a magnet ’til I wear them.

Even the morning birds outside my widow sill see them,

–hopping and skipping about in a merry little jig. 

Did you send them?

And the knock on my door…….is it you?

‘Tis the wind, my Beloved. Our messenger.

 It greets me, caresses my cheek, then returns to brush thine own–

a courier for our souls. 

Listen, then, to what I bring thee.