meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2017 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   267467 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
Snow Is A Softening Of The Rain

In The Winter Park

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Time Does Not Recognize Me

The Knowledge...



Some Women/Some Woman

Laughing Maid

Brilliance

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

I Talk To A Machine In My Darkness

I Long For Stars

And Even Stars Die

I Am Time

Crowded Out

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

All Beings Considered

Storms

what makes a monster (sympathy for the monster)

Max on the max

why We celebrate the losers

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

The Times Have Come Back Of Great Want And Lack, This Is The New Great Depression

The Light Goes On In The Attic (WeAll Have Addictons)

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

I Feel Fine(r)

And With Words I Let Them Go

Used to Think I Could Fix Them.

Sometimes Love Comes With Electricity

Into The Swirling Sea Of White.

Boy Restored

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

Fourteen Hundred Miles



its nearly fourteen hundred miles

so one can never be too well prepared
bring two extra gas cans, filled
a rifle and several boxes of shells
flannel lined long underwear
30 below gear
extra grub/fluids
and be prepared for anything
there can be a change in the weather
when you're driving alone
one way on the two lane to
Alaska

there might be an instant white-out
no civilization or
gas stations, no,  not for miles
could be pulled over on the side of the road
waiting for sunrise
those would be the longest hours you will ever know
when you're driving all alone
one way on the two lane to
Alaska

read that they built the 2 lane
back in 1942
it was a lot of dirt and gravel
back then
now its mostly smooth
but it can be lonesome
as those miles stretch on
despite the grand scenery
and the numerous interesting animals
they are your only company
because...
sometimes the radio's only static
and its the only noise you have on
as you travel through the last frontier
to the top of the world
logging the miles all alone
one way in the two lane
to Alaska.

he left seven years ago
after our Momma died
he was leaving behind the last
of his family
he was leaving behind the
pain of not making it home in time
the family was to have one last Christmas
and he was caught in a storm
and she died before he made it through
the blizzard
he never got to say what it was in his heart

so, now he's piling the miles up one way
in the  two lane
to Alaska
in the end
they will total 1,390 miles
maybe, even more
will they ever be enough?

they call Alaska, "Seward's Folly"
he tells himself,
because they weren't sure it was
going to be worth the purchase price
its the same for me
I'm going at this all hit and miss
maybe I'm running from my past
maybe I'm running to a future
that's mostly uncertain

yet, he's all in
and he knows it but,
he does not know
quite where he'll go
or what he's in for
or quite how to begin...

all he knows is
he's one way on a two lane up
to Alaska
and he's a long way from
any kind of
home.


(I'm the sister angel in bed back in Portland with my hands
clenched in prayer praying over him, trying to see him through the snow.)


The above poem was partially written and then reworked today.

Melissa ANN Howells/ meloo
Legal Copyright November 3 2014/ 10:11 PST
All LEGAL Rights Reserved By This Author
Meloo/ Straight from her Tilt-a-World

This is for my Brother. I hope he makes it in this life. I believe
he deserves his true measure of happiness. Every one does...
some just don't know how to go about it as well as others, I guess.

Afterwards:

I've reserved a special inculcate dislike for that state of Alaska, even though,
I appreciate its natural beauty and other qualities. Something happened
to our Brother when he lived there. I think some places can take your soul
if you let them. My brother is a person who naturally thrives in the outdoors.
Maybe there's something freakish about Alaska. Don't know what it is.
Maybe its haunted in places or its haunted my Brother.

My Brother is leaving again. For Montana. Don't know if/when I'll see him again.
Odd how big places swallow up men alive. Odder still how the past can swallow us
up.





Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem

Comments

 Email Address

 

Vote for this poem