writing after midnight
directly onto the computer
no longer pen to the page
the blinking cursor seems impatient
hungry and eager for words and meaning
bleary eyed
i
do my best
as all good children of alcoholics do
when the pressure is on
stumbling as i go
forgetting the punctuation
and the capital letters
some poems and poets do not require
societal formalities and correctness
i chafe at convention
and being told what to do
always have always will
no they could not invent a pill
that could convince me to be anything
other than myself
no, i didn't need menopause
for my reinvention
inventive chaos being my forever intention
so i
have been trouble troubling trouble
all my damn long life
gave Momma 58 hours of labor
asked her too many cantankerous childhood questions
held too many life-long opinions
its fine with me, though
i'm too old to care anymore...and i mean it,
i've worn a hole in the cushion i'm so
set in my ways
just like a sewed in pleat
but i can be sweet and kind
educated and refined
til we bore each other silly
but what i'd rather do...really
is be myself
i can love you fiercely
and show that i've missed you dearly
even at the end of just one day
i've a lot to say
but shouldn't everybody
when they've got a whole life ahead of 'em?
Copyright April 4 2012
All rights reserved by the Author
Melissa A Howells Meloo of Tilt-a-World
don't know quite where i'm going to with this one, but i'll get there...
but don't mistake energetic for....frenetic...just havin some fun