melissaahowells

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2022 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   517620 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
The Petty Player Who Rarely Sleeps

I'd Like A Taste (The Wolf Said)

The Crow Is A Black Bird

When I Start to Bloom

I'd Like To Be Your Shirt (when you wake up in the morning)



All Beings Considered

Words Between Edward And Jane

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

After Wide Sargasso Sea ( For Those of You Readers Who Have Empathy For the First Mrs. Rochester.)

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

Wild and Unraveling

What Must Be

These Hands Exist July 4 2023 rei-edited 7/12/2023

I Am The Color Of Black

The Tide of Your Lies (2019-2023)

How I Wanted Your Pearls 6/24/2023 WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE

Love Wants What Love Wants re-edited 5/31/023

Winter's Been Too Long.... 4/18/2023 (LONGING)

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

At Night, As I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

And You Will Be Called Ashes As You Leave ( from a dream)

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

Someone Send Out A Search Party

THE FAN , AT NIGHT, GIVES GOOD ADVICE completely re-edited, an entirely different poem

What Is The Price For Your Touch? re-editied 5/31/2023

Where Is My Bed With The Pleasing Tree -Lined View(NOW REEDITED)

Oh What Fine Physics (Before Me ,Lies) re-edtited @4/17/2023

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

THE COMPANY THAT WE KEEP WITH THE ONE WITHIN

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

When People Go


I heard a small child say:
"Why is it
when people go
they don't ever come back?

"And why are good-byes,
often,
are not so good?"

Today the March snow falls.
Spring is nowhere near.
Warmer days are
a foggy distant memory.

I squint.
Try to recall why you liked Winter best...

How you could skate backwards...
and make school figures with precision.
You sang mezzo-soprano in the church choir
on Christmas morning so proudly.
And when you struggled through my birth
enduring fifty-eight hours of intense labor.

still...
I resented you
for what I thought was your continuous campaign
for self-improvement of me or
anything within your sphere of influence.

Many years we made ornaments together for the tree.
Sold most of them at a boutique for spending money.
Sang carols while we baked quick breads and cookies.

I never told you how much I hated
Christmas, but,
especially, my birthday.

Why didI protect your feelings,
while burying my own?

Several days before you died,
you called me to reconcile.
I ignored the phone,
your pleading message.

Today as I stand here in silence,
your eyes are closed in death.
Yet you appear to be sleeping...
Your clothes are stacked neatly on a corner chair.
You most likely wore clean underwear...
and the freckles are strewn fresh across your face
like familiar daisies.
I've counted every furrows in your brow.
Each worry line is there.

Panic has begun to settle in.
I know...
Surely this is my mistake.

Where do the dead go,
how they get there?
This isn't some stupid question
a silly child needs to know.

Its all wrong.

Mother's gone
Father's gone...
orphaned now
the motherless child.

Time has sped on winged heels.
A familiar ache remains
in persistent, dulled defiance.

She once said to me
"You're stubborn...
full of ill will and
indignant self-reliance.

So now my toes curl
rooted into the floor
as I rage away
in renewed anger and defiance.

Mom, I need you now
yet I can no longer ask.
Time tapped you on your shoulder
years ago
my want remains
but you are beyond the task
thus is the tyranny
of the final silence.

straight to the page.
Legal copyright for this poem March 6, 2019/1:30PM PST time/date stamped
and also for this Writer/Author/Poet Melissa A. Howells and also for this
LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE-- MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD
re-edited for clarity and emotion March 8 2019/7:49 PM PST.





Vote for this poem