Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2019 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   338414 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry


Read Poetry
Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

All Beings Considered

I Long For Stars

The Best Revenge (For All Your Critic's Critiques)

Your Next New Dying Black Swan

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

All Too Clearly Now

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

Informed Through Pain

Sometimes In Losing I Have Gained A Lot

A Man Of The Clouds

The Birds Are Such Un-numbering Creatures of Distant Hitchcockian Past



Didn't You Learn That First Lesson In Kindergarten?

They Grew (A Poem From The Imaginarium)

Cuba Libre


Max on the max

The Little Bird Said

The Factory of Resentments

When My Blues Are Gone

Expect Yourself



Silver-Tongued Devil

Within The Green Wind Becomes The Fall

Think On This--IF YOU WOULD

Open Lines

You Got Your Lilly Back

More Poetry >>


  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook


The Parts of Me Kept Secret

Some Indian women have
pale eyebrows
even invisible ones
preferring to show their
strength in their jaws
and their inner reserve.

I hid my Indian-ness
before I even knew who I was.
I exchanged Marilyn Monroe bobs
for my back long braids.

The facts were simply
not brought up.

Only half doesn't
account for much.
Not worth mentioning.
Fact was I was cheated.

A married into the family
relative was the one
to tell me all about myself.
Her name was Rose.
She didn't do it quite directly.
Everything in my family was

She'd researched it.
One side of the family tree.
A paternal Great-Grandmother was a

My other Grandmother was not
the favorite daughter of her Mother.
She always said to her.
Little brown girl, you mind me now and stay
out of the sun.
Grandma never obeyed.
Great Grandmother had a tongue so sharp
it was rumored she could cut a chord of wood.
Eileen her youngest always angered her.
She didn't want her neighbors to know
her secret. Grandmother was a full blooded fine
French lady alright. Nothing more.

Later I was to find out more
about my Mother's side of the family
how Grandpa's distant relation Caroline
had Cree blood from Canada.

I can only scratch my head.
I want nothing from this.
All I want to know is why?

why the years of silence?

Copyright June 13 2012
All Rights Reserved By Author
All Poetry/Prose are the Legal Property of this Writer
Melissa A Howells   Meloo from her Tilt-a-World

Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem


 Email Address


Vote for this poem