meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2017 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   263535 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
All Tarted Up

Don't Tread On Me.

why We celebrate the losers

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

what makes a monster (sympathy for the monster)



I Long For Stars

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

All Beings Considered

Little Water Bug ( learning the lesson of true pain)

Hope You Enjoyed The Eclipse While It Lasted

Written For My Father Who Isn't Here To Know

And Even Stars Die

Crowded Out

I Feel Fine(r)

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

Used to Think I Could Fix Them.

Sometimes Love Comes With Electricity

Into The Swirling Sea Of White.

Max on the max

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

Boy Restored

The Light Goes On In The Attic (WeAll Have Addictons)

Life's A Candle

Malla Batsick

(A Prayer of Intercession--Brief Joy)

Love A Cat

Cuba Libre

Fragile Shell Of Morning

Disappear

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

Sometimes I Hear Him

And With Words I Let Them Go

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

Of A Wounded Branch





there's a wounded branch
on a leafless tree
I can see it dangling
hanging down
outside my balcony
I don't know how that branch
hangs on
with all this rain
and the pulling wind's
moaning
song

how does it continue to hang there
by the thinnest of shreds
the branch itself
nearly blackened
nearly dead

(does any one really care)

near the break
is a faint small spot of green
and one must keenly look
before it is seen
I know
that wounded branch
its surely me

black crows scavenge near
my window every day
I feed them nuts
tiny bits of seed
which sometimes the crows fail to find
so then the bits burrow and decay

often I too have felt lost like that
too much that buried way

how do these crows continue, thrive
while so few I see merely try to survive
is there some lesson they could teach me
so I won't have to think on
those decaying seeds
growing into worry weeds

sometimes
bits of my life don't flourish or
fail to sprout and grow
I'd like to be able to focus
on the better things
and have more to show
from the parts of my life
that make up me

sometimes
I need help to persevere
to succeed and see
so that my blacker thoughts
remain at bay or
can begin to slow

if only
I could know
just long enough
so I can begin better to sow
some of those bluer skies
and grasp at the yet
un-realized
and not just the gruff
of harder times
not be
that wounded branch




blue menu:
Legal
Copyright November 20, 2016/ 7:11 am PST
for this poem/work, by this author/writer
Melissa Ann Howells/Meloo
straight from her legal copyright
site: Tilt-a-World

reedited December 2, 2016
5:09 am PST





Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem

Comments

 Email Address

 

Vote for this poem