melissaahowells
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I have a view
out my window it affords many perspectives I feel that the window is more or less a window but really it is not its become a shield a barrier the keeper of me from the outside world the view itself is limited and limiting it only allows me to see how limited my small world the space I inhabit the space I see my neighbors inhabit as diminishing the words I share here on the computer in a poem with a supposed audience are more numerous than those I've shared with neighbors this is a lonely narrow world the radio in each apartment the TV's blaring only intensify the fact that each resident lives in his/her own cell the shell that protects their frailty from outside this is how the one percent would have the ninety-nine live when I was twenty I lived in a house I rented out rooms to others now I am in my fifties and I live in 4 small rooms home ownership a distant memory we are being made into dependent children the dream of the cottage with the garden is only in the mist formless shapeless impossible I want so little I think but they want it all all for them is not enough what I have left is my intelligence my creativity my mindfulness and kindness and a love for all that once was simpler I look for the past clues of it wherever I can I look for random generosity in others towards others these are the colors of hope that would germinate like a garden into possibility possibility of a better world otherwise what am looking out my window to see than some meaningful proof for a hopeful dreamer's eyes LEGALCOPYRIGHT FOR THIS WORK/POEM APRIL 15 2017 11:46 AM PST/TIME DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER AUTHOR/MELISSA A HOWELLS AND ASLO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE:MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD I AM REMINDED OF "OLIVER" AND THE WORDS WHERE IS LOVE, DOES IT FALL FROM SKIES ABOVE... IS IT UNDERNEATH THE WILLOW TREE THAT I'VE BEEN DREAMING OF...DON'T KNOW EXACTLY WHY...BUT THIS POPPED INTO MY HEAD AT THE END OF WRITING THIS DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE. I THINK THE WORLD (THE ANIMALS, FLORA AND THE PEOPLE, MOTHER EARTH )IS (ALLL ARE) TRULY SUFFERING FROM A LACK OF LOVE AND COMPASSION. Vote for this poem |
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