meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world


 Poet's Home Page  Poetry Search    352600 Poems Read
 Other Poets  PoetryPoem  Sign Up!  Login

  Search The Web
   

Read Poetry
o Wisdom of the Infinite

o If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

o The Differences

o The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

o A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life



o The Voice Lost In the Wires

o Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

o All Beings Considered

o After Wide Sargasso Sea

o Great Big Waterproof World

o The Storm

o I Turn Forward

o Patch-Worked Trilogy

o And Then It Wasn't Hard To Be Eight Years Old

o Prairie Town Progress

o Beyond Door Number Three

o Great Spirit

o Elise, Elise

o The Make-Up of Molecules

o Someone Send Out A Search Party

o Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

o Threading Myself Through The River Called Night

o Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

o The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

o Dragons

o HOW

o EVENTUALLY...

o THERE WILL BE MORE ...

o At Night I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

o morning thoughts (begin again)

o Human History is Pockmarked With Tragedy

o Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils



[More Poetry] >>



  Sign Guestbook
  Read Guestbook
 
Yes, We're Smiling at all the Right Intervals

There are some odd ones here.
Ones I barely recognize as myself.
Ones I roll my eyes heavenward at,
but only in mock exasperation.
Or is it in recognition?
Surely, this could not be my disposition...
I hear idiot half-sentences...
Muttered, uncompleted thoughts,
somewhat like the ones limping around in my head.
Oh they have come from different places,
they are like Dracula and Frankenstein.
But yet the whole of this fits.
Well, some whole, others only half-whole.
All fallen from the same crooked tree,
and always trying to scramble back up again.
See the man in the grey flannel suit,
with the painful pinching wingtips...
Thinks he's hidden behind his glasses
and that grim, intolerant smile.
He's armed with a book for protection.
But its only paper.
I can see right through you, mister.
Its another episode.
with me writing here
at this small, half-abandoned cafe.


Meloo/Melissa A. Howells Copyright 2010, but written and re-written over a period of time.





Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem

Comments

 Email Address

 

Vote for this poem



 
 Privacy Statement       Terms of Use  © 2000-2020 ++++ Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors