meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2017 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   249815 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
Rage Against This Machine

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

Oh, Now, The Pink Moon

And Even Stars Die



You Are Not My Audience, I Just Borrowed You For Awhile

why not ask the cat?

Odd Thoughts and Juxtapositions

Some Meaningful Proof For A Hopeful Dreamer's Eyes

Ramada

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

Beauty

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

the life and times of Medusa

I Talk To A Machine In My Darkness

A Man Called Tsuris

Tuesday afternoon in the jewelry box

All Beings Considered

Disappear

Woman Of A Certain Age

Better Than A Cyanide Capsule

The Life of Tigger

I Feel Fine(r)

Like A Snow-globe

Mrs. Stine, Isn't It Time?

So Much Beauty

Max on the max

Certain Succulent Pieces Of Time

What Is This Death? ( As I Grow Older And Nearer To It)

Great Big Waterproof World

un-Completion (I Prefer It)

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

That Poet Girl


that girl
in the front
that poet

she
astounded me

she was short in stature
brief as a haiku
yet calm and clear of voice

the listeners in the crowded space
had little choice
but to listen to her

new I was
to this kind of forum
yet I sat rapt and taut
quietly in full attention
with soldierly attendance to her words

she was so unaffected by her effect
upon the crowd
it may have seemed to the mob she read to
that her verses
were far too loud

faces revealed somehow
she lacked a certain conscience
yet divined a specific intention
to provoke
their conventions
oops

looking 'round at the listeners
there seemed to be a kind of joke afoot
the crowd transformed into
a sea of large mouth bass with their mouths agape
gasping at the shore for one last collective gulp of air

the poetess expressed whatever she wrought
no thoughts of them crossed her mind
she simply didn't care

but a little smile creeped across my face
and grew
I understood so well her profound effect
as my appreciation for her queer sublimity grew
she hardly knew
of my admiration

until later on I told her
and we shared our
secret laugh


Legal Copyright for this work, this Site Title
by this Author/Writer Melissa A. Howells/Meloo
Straight from her Tilt-a-World
Time/Date stamp :10:01 in the morning/ November 5, 2016






Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem

Comments

 Email Address

 

Vote for this poem