meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2017 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   263703 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
Coming Off Small

Counting The Long Days, Tilling The Greens

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

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

Some Meaningful Proof For A Hopeful Dreamer's Eyes


I have a view
out my window
it affords many perspectives
I feel that the window is more or less
a window
but really it is not

its become a shield
a barrier
the keeper of me
from the outside world

the view itself
is limited
and limiting
it only allows me to see
how limited my small world
the space I inhabit
the space I see my neighbors inhabit
as diminishing

the words I share here on the computer
in a poem with a supposed audience
are more numerous than those
I've shared with neighbors

this is a lonely narrow world
the radio in each apartment
the TV's blaring
only intensify the fact that each resident
lives in his/her own cell
the shell that protects their frailty
from outside

this is how the one percent
would have the ninety-nine live
when I was twenty I lived in a house
I rented out rooms to others
now I am in my fifties and I live in 4 small rooms
home ownership a distant memory

we are being made into dependent children
the dream of the cottage with the garden
is only in the mist
formless shapeless impossible

I want so little
I think
but they want it all
all for them is not enough

what I have left is
my intelligence
my creativity
my mindfulness and kindness
and a love for all that once was simpler

I look for the past
clues of it
wherever I can
I look for random generosity
in others towards others
these are the colors of hope
that would germinate like a garden into
possibility

possibility of a better world
otherwise
what am looking out my window to see
than some meaningful proof
for a hopeful dreamer's eyes


LEGALCOPYRIGHT FOR THIS WORK/POEM
APRIL 15 2017  11:46 AM PST/TIME DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER
AUTHOR/MELISSA A HOWELLS
AND  ASLO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE
TITLE:MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD


I AM REMINDED OF "OLIVER" AND THE WORDS
WHERE IS LOVE, DOES IT FALL FROM SKIES ABOVE...
IS IT UNDERNEATH THE WILLOW TREE THAT I'VE BEEN
DREAMING OF...DON'T KNOW EXACTLY WHY...BUT THIS
POPPED INTO MY HEAD AT THE END OF WRITING THIS
DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE. I THINK THE WORLD (THE ANIMALS,
FLORA AND THE PEOPLE, MOTHER EARTH )IS (ALLL ARE) TRULY
SUFFERING FROM A LACK OF LOVE AND COMPASSION.





Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem

Comments

 Email Address

 

Vote for this poem