meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2017 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   255840 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Please Don't Bring Me Flowers

Be Like The Clouds

No Woman's Friend

Sometimes I Hear Him



Sometimes Love Comes With Electricity

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

I Long For Stars

Every Time I Listen To the Wind.

Some People

She Is My Friend

Beware The Sign of Sagittarius

Need You (note of encouragement to self)

The Un-Promised Land

I Travel Every Time I Think Of You

Poem Untitled, But, If Not For You

If I Were Your Island....

(You're) Still Here

I Know Most Who I Am When You Are In The Room

From The Desert

As Sick As My Secrets

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

Then The Little Silver Fish Came

I Keep My Ray Bans Handy

Upwards Into The Swirling Sea Of White.

He's There

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

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