melissaahowells

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2022 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   442889 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
<< [Previous]

The Future I'm Caught Up In...RE-EDITED 5/22/2021

IN THE WILDERNESS CALLED YOU

Cool Pea-Green New Leaves....(Imaginarium)

Marinate On This

Sharp Sticks For The Cinderella's



Someone Send Out A Search Party

Odd Things, Odd Thing.....

The Magical Closet( re-edited for clarity of metaphor)

Mister Misbegotten.

The Legacy List

WE SHARE... march 2021 poetry

This Firestorm Of Dying Lights..

The Threshold To The Other World...(March 2021/Feb 2021)

(MELISSA'S) ALL---TRUE---ISMS....3/3/2021 4:51 pm PACIFIC STANDARD TIME

February 11, 2012 / Today The Storm...

MOLECULES

No Broom Could Chase Me.

Self-Improvementizing....(yes, I made up a new word)

Big Is No Little Adjective. (revised)

Taking Up Alley Living

YOU DO NOT GROW OLD

Out On The Street

THE MILES THAT ARE LEFT TO GO...

I Need To Fly

Burying the Dark

Judging The Rain

The Haircut Thing

The Bare Bones

I Came From Water

Every One of Us Has a Door....

THEY NAMED ME ENOUGH

THE CRYPT OF THE KEPT AND THE KEEPER

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   




they're talking about me
like I'm not here.

moving in circles where
I'm not ever there.
what is this?

where am I?

its peculiar to feel
so self-aware
when I'm not even a shadow
nor a shape in the
background where the wind
moves through.

just
simply not there,
not anywhere.

where did I go?

why do they whisper?
why can I not make out
the breathy words they speak?

silent worlds make me
feel a whole lot less comfortable
although I am erased from
any place my eyes
seek.

odd.
what's going on?

there's a raising of cups
the joke's being explained
but I am not here to share in
the laughter's refrain.

there ,
over in the corner
two eyes are peering out from inside
of a box.

how electric a shock
to be
silent
to be
so not around...
questions pour out
of me in
an avalanche.

when
echoing, in the distance
a shrill alarm clock rings
and I arise almost Christ-like
from the tomb of
three days sleeping.

no box,
still fully assembled.

I've been
dreaming.


Copyright October 11, 2013
Melissa A Howells
All Rights Reserved By This Author
Meloo straight from her Tilt-a-World





Vote for this poem