meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2017 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   259718 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

(A Prayer of Intercession--Brief Joy)

Upwards Into The Swirling Sea Of White.

Tuesday afternoon in the jewelry box

What If



Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

the slave is freed

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

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

All Beings Considered

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

Max on the max

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

A Man Called Tsuris

For The Loss Of A Ghost Like You

Love A Cat

Fragile Shell Of Morning

I Long For Stars

I Feel Fine(r)

The Crow Is A Songbird

Sometimes Love Comes With Electricity

And With Words I Let Them Go

When He Returns From The Road

Flashes, Glimpses, Moments, Time

the brand of disappointment

Boy Restored

Please Don't Bring Me Flowers

No Woman's Friend

Ramada

Sometimes I Hear Him

the life and times of Medusa

why not ask the cat?

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

And Even Stars Die


*****
***
*

the end of the day
arrives exhausted

do you look into the faces of others
who surround you
if they let you in

don't we all hide something inside
which keeps us apart
and separates us
maintains the distances

oh how the strain of daily cares
that one has to buttress oneself
up against
the shock and awe
of daily life

couldn't it all be simpler
why do we do so complicate matters

when we could chose to relax
and breathe

glance up from the ground
take a wider look around
notice birds, flowers, clouds calibrating the sky
and the newness of Spring
or of anything
why not
let our smiles creep into our faces
in spite of ourselves

yet
here we are
with our elaborate masks
sunglasses to hide who we really are
a tiring assignment, a daily task...
the fact our eyes don't match our smiles

our clothes, manners and expectations
frustrations
a panoply of uniform disguise manifestations
truly put-ons
smoke signals and distractions
from any real interactions

why do we sabotage
be the saboteur
with our mal odor about life

and when we surmise
how our dreams are now or not ever yet realized
time becomes a commodity we waste
and hence is wasted on us

forget that we are all made
of the same stardust
and in the end,
how even stars die

*****
***
*

legal copyright for this work
and also by this writer Melissa A Howells
and also for this site title
Meloo Straight from her Tilt-a-World
March 11 2017 5:15pm PST

directly to the page/edited later
re-edited March 13th, 2017 4am.

this isn't a simple, no-brainer poem.
there's a lot more complexity than meets the eye,
double and triple entendre's.
if you haven't found a meaning here
than perhaps you can read it again.
if you haven't thought about this,
or come to a part of your life
where you look at your inherent frailty
the frailties of those close to you,
or the frailties of the world
 or perhaps you haven't
had this thought yet nor this experience.
I hope you don't. But, believe me
you will some day.
I time and date stamp all of my writing.
I was writing this at 4am.
That might give some of those who
don't understand a clue.

re-edited briefly April 12, 2017 8:19pm PST





Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem

Comments

 Email Address

 

Vote for this poem