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Best Poems Written by Richard Hovelsrud

Below are the all-time best Richard Hovelsrud poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Let it Ring

I can hear my soul sing, and my heart is telling me…
“Let it Ring.”
My soul can reach the low notes in the shadows, 
And hit the high notes in the sun.

Whether restful or restless, revengeful or regretful,
I will just…
“Let it Ring.”

Helplessly or haphazardly hazing happily high,
Or decenting down with the distorted and the departed and all the rest,
Even louder yet, my soul will still sing, and I will…
“Let it Ring.”

I will pray for the forgiveness of the forgotten few,
Let them be lifted from the depths of the fray,
So our hearts can meet, our souls will sing,
And together, forever, 
We will “Let it Ring.”


Copyright © Richard Hovelsrud | Year Posted 2013

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I need a Girl

They say confessional poetry is repressed sexuality, I believe it don’t you?

 I’m a man who puts sanctions on his mind, and chains around my soul, wall's surrounding my own heart. 

It has been so long since my bare skin has felt the bare skin of a girl, so long, that I do not want to even begin to imagine when,

Was the last time I locked lips with a girl, held her hand, or stroked her willing hair with my eager hands,
Oh how long it has been.

I’m an idealistic guy who chooses to shut myself into this sanctuary, my own isolation.
A man who tortures his own heart, with a soul that screams and a mind that is close to falling apart.

Infected by rumination.
Imagination suffocated by expectation.
Lofty goals and desperate attempts to achieve some jaded sense of moral fulfillment. 
Any meager milestone that will put this ambition to rest, motivated by stress, obligations, and promises best left repressed.

So hopeful a dreamer who, like a young child I reach to the sky, stand tall for a little while then take an all too familiar slide into depression, 
A self-created, self-directed, self-manufactured tragedy.
But self-determined to feed this wild ambition, this reservoir of fire.
An energy so shockingly, so alarmingly evident in everything I do, so competitive, so confrontational, so controversial, all I want is to be conversational. 
I don’t blame the world for my troubles, we all have burdens to bear, crosses to carry, thoughts that vary.

We choose to be positive or cynical, an optimist, a motivator or a pessimist, to be inspired, to be admired, to receive respect, to let go of regrets.
To love, and to be loved, to be touched and not resist, to give in but not up our inhibitions, to just be freely in this moment, if only for a moment, to let our bodies dance.
To not be critical of romance, to have peace with this world, if only for a day, then today is the day,

That I need a Girl.

Copyright © Richard Hovelsrud | Year Posted 2013

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One Last Thing

Sex is the sharing of the souls.
When I am inside you, you are inside me.
When our eye’s meet, our shame meets.

It’s ironic how I can only meet your gaze in the most intimate moment of our relationship.
I construct my own reality from a fantasy land, living in the grandeur of illusion.
But when your hands roam over me, I feel like more than just a man.
Some kind of jaded masculinity molded from guilt.
My love for you is all I can give to you.
You deserve better than this.
A dysfunctional codependent relationship, I am a martyr, and you are a masochist.

Why do you “Love the way I Lie”, in the broader scheme of things, this life isn’t right.
If I were you I would cut my loses and say goodbye.
Say goodbye to the stagnation and the toxic rumination of this love born of pity and fueled by a sense of guilty obligation.
I am afraid to read what my diagnosis would be…Narcissist, sociopath…Yeah that could be me. 
I love you more than I love myself, I know that.
I am obsessed with you.
But you are not a possession and you can choose.
Trust me girl, anything but the air I breathe I would rather choose you.

But even my air I would willingly give to you.
You already have my heart and my mind too.
So I had a deadbeat childhood, and you did too.
That’s probably the source of our attraction.
But the fundamental difference between me and you,
Is that you refuse to be a victim, and all I do is worry about life without you.

Textbook head case, a legitimate nutcase, those are my character traits.
You are so damn beautiful it is consuming to be in the same room with you.
Without a doubt there is no greater feeling than walking hand in hand with you.
I may be sick.
I may be addicted to you, 
But without a second thought or a moments doubt I would die for you.

But for the sake of your future, girl it’s time for me to lose you.
Run, don’t look back.
You better believe I will remember you.
Who the hells knows why you ever loved me,
Or ever walked up to me in the first place.

But you have carried this burden too long.
It’s not fair; you have done far more than your fair share.
So it’s time for you to leave, we both know that.
You have just been waiting for me to confront that fact.

But before you leave, one last thing,
It’s all I have left to share,
Take my air.

Copyright © Richard Hovelsrud | Year Posted 2013

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I Smell a Rose

I smell a rose,
Walking down a country road,
Where it goes, I don’t know,
But I smell a rose.

It’s getting dark, and I’m far from the start,
But nowhere near the end, aloneness is usually something I would fear,
But not here. 
I cannot see.
I cannot hear.
Honestly, I do not know how I got here,
A dreamer lost in the night,
Searching for hope,
Looking for a light, but no matter how far I go…
I smell a rose.

Copyright © Richard Hovelsrud | Year Posted 2013

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Clever Dreams

“I Can Hear You Sin.”

I can smell our lust in the dark air above our bed,
You lay beside me, in your perfect ruthless beauty,
If only you knew what I really am, I hope you never see inside my clever dreams.

You don’t really know me, your beauty was so eager to trust me,
My brutality was so thirsty to protect you, and now a demon has an angel willingly in his possession.
You are my trophy, my obsession,
But I hope you never discover that you completely control me,
You are all of me, all that is left of me.
In my dreams I have captured you a thousand times,
I hope it is just a matter of time until I lay my hands on you in the daytime,
But until that time, I will hunt you each night,


Copyright © Richard Hovelsrud | Year Posted 2013

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The Mind's Labyrinth

 The Human Mind is a treacherous labyrinth, and it is only through the sinister pathways of these dark tunnels that are hidden insidious agendas can be found.  
Love is Madness.
Lust is Envy.
Romance is Jealously.
When our hearts beat green, our hands drip red with blood.

Copyright © Richard Hovelsrud | Year Posted 2013

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Exotic Wonderland

Let’s touch lips, and then press together our fingertips.
Let’s get lost in this erotic lounge, where no inhibitions or guilty conscious can be found.
A landscape of romance is the symphony we dance to in this exotic wasteland.

Is this psychosis? This dream doesn’t feel real, I’m beginning to fear the end to our fantasy, and our only hope is to be saved by our insanity. Can I rescue you from normalcy? Come dance with me along the tight rope of mental instability. 

Let’s promise each other not to blink, for fear of the ending to this fairytale. Imaginations are truly wild; we are hidden in the forbidden comforts of devious desire.

We are those who can only be found between the lines, a product of an over-worked manic mind exhausted by one too many late nights, the air feels different tonight.

Fictional hallucinations can come alive; hold your breath when you surface, what you’re seeing is illusion, dive back down deep into delusion.

In the aftermath of eternity, through this vision of anxiety, it is hard to escape in this reality; we are in the post-modem phase of sanity, on the edge of turning red again. 
We are on the wrong side of our timeline, our impulses are in control, and this must be the borderline. I wish that I knew magic, so I could save you from the truth, and make this story disappear.

Surrealism is so unreal.

Copyright © Richard Hovelsrud | Year Posted 2013

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When Her Eyes Turn Blue

I am possessed by her cold vision, 
Her lips sing beautiful words that I know will never be true,
But the lies make it seem real,
When her eyes turn blue.

She would give my soul to the devil,
To save her fate, but I’ll wait for her, here, forever,
Inside my madness,
When her eyes turn blue.

Lying under her shame, in the dark,
Call it psychopathic atonement, 
We kiss on the lips and exchange sins,
Even though she sees red in the dark,
Her eye’s glow blue.

So confused by this guilty pleasure,
No doubt this is dysfunctional,
Our relationship is abused,
But her eyes are so blue.

Fear is our glue, we envy the world,
And the people who are content with it,
Jealously is her worldview,
When her eyes go blue.

I write these memoirs in a diary of neurotic truths,
By my side will forever be,
The girl whose eyes turn blue.


Copyright © Richard Hovelsrud | Year Posted 2013

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You are Love

With your love,
My mind is clean, 
With your love,
My heart can breathe, and my conscious see.

Your touch,
Shifts the skies and seas,
Your laugh,
Heals all sickness for eternity,
Your body,
Moves with grace and majesty.

A majestic soul,
Poetic in its dignity,
Matched only by your character and integrity.

Your beautiful face lights up a dark night,
Brighter than any star that ever shined.

Your wit and personality,
Honor me,
With all the laughter I’ll ever need.

With your Love,
I am Complete

Copyright © Richard Hovelsrud | Year Posted 2013

Details | Richard Hovelsrud Poem

Mad Mind

“Mad Mind”

I am seeing things that are not there; I hear my name whispered softly in the night air,
I feel a presence in this house, it follows me everywhere, 
I hear strange noises in the attic, do I dare?

I long for faith at my side, but have only fear, 
Hunted by an invisible beast, who hides with an evil glint in his red eyes,
I flee from the attic and run to the stairs, but I hear sinister laughing come from down there.

Why is the night so dark and the air so cold?
How I wish the lights would turn back on.

I feel the monster everywhere,
As if I am trapped in a treacherous house of mirrors,
But when I dare to stare, I find only me standing there.

Where did this darkness come from?
My only hope is to breathe this malignant air.

Sprinting from my house, I hide in the woods
But I can feel the breathing of creatures, and smell fire everywhere.

Onto a lonely old road I run, but my predator is waiting for me there.
Up ahead is an abandoned farm house, that was destroyed long ago by the fire in this air.
Across the open field, salvation awaits there,
A empty church with open doors, and a powerful cross that hangs there.

Now I see it is the Devil trying to beat me there,
The perverted Angel spreads its rotting wings and ascends into the night air,
It laughs, it roars, it screams, then it calls my name and say’s
“I am the one who has always been there.”

Into the church I run, surely
 God will protect me there.
But just outside these holy gates,
Hell itself awaits there.

Pounding, pounding at the gates I know he wants in here,
I hide in the chapel, but through an open window,
He can see me there.

The wind brings a chill, and then evil freezes the air,
I rush to close the window, but a strange demon beats me there,
With all my faith I stare him in the face, and shout
“You are not welcome here.”

Then the drumbeats begin, 
you can hear them everywhere.
The walls begin to burn, and the laughter once again
engulfs the night air.

I now know my fate, and the ending to this story draws near,
I now do the only thing left to do.

I clutch the mighty sword, and raise the heavy shield,
and storm out into the open night air.

But there is only me standing there.


Copyright © Richard Hovelsrud | Year Posted 2013