meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2020 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   362709 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
I Came From Water

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Every One of Us Has a Door....

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

After Wide Sargasso Sea



The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

All Beings Considered

Great Big Waterproof World

Someone Send Out A Search Party

THE MILES THAT ARE LEFT TO GO...

The Off Brand

THE CRYPT OF THE KEPT AND THE KEEPER

UNDECIDED

21st Century Proverbs...more will be added, you wait and read...

The House Is Alive

THEY NAMED ME ENOUGH

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

Burying the Dark

So Glad I Met You

Being Ourselves...

Knock, Then Come Through

I Need To Fly

To Them, I am Dead, I am Dead

I Turn Forward

Uncovered

Beyond Door Number Three

Little Man Orange--My Mister Peanut Butter Trout

The Blue Buffalo

THE STITCH IN THE TELEPHONE WIRES

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

The Differences

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home


*
***
******

Little Soul
our Boy
turn around.

Let your eyes look up
straight into the mirror of heaven.

Know it will be alright.

Do not tremble.
Be steady.
But do not hold onto the ground.

Know, I am here with you still.
Be comforted, do not fear for your future.

All cats have nine lives, yet,
I believe you will have
a million.

And I hope to see you
in them all.

******
***
*



Copyright6:20am PST August 9 2016
LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS WORK, FOR THIS SITE TITLE
BY THIS AUTHOR/WRITER
MELOO/MELISSA A HOWELLS
STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD
LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR TILT-A-WORLD

....."Wherever you go I'll be with you"

time is supposedly a Human construct.
It cause much grieving when we feel the loss of it
or more specifically the loss of time with some one
we hold dear. I read something recently which gave me
peace. In Lakota language there are no words for
saying good-bye to the dead. There is only good-bye
until we meet again, later...perhaps, meaning
in another life. That is what I was trying to say
in this poem. I hope, I like the wise Lakota, have
succeeded in conveying this message.





Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem

Comments

 Email Address