melissaahowells

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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

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Checking Out


I'm not here
any longer
its the wind
I'm the wind
rustling
those too familiar sounds through my ears
I'm not here

I'm checking out
so silent
as to go unseen

I'm
the one wearing
dull green
and dull brown
a mixture of earth
so I might be stepped around

I'm not here
I'm checking out
so silent
as to go unseen

not the usual tactic
being quiet
so the monsters avoid me
at last

the past
not in this moment
the past no longer adheres to me
tightly and fast

I thought I preferred
attention
but attention fades
and is eaten up
by the Mass
my silence is
the new re-invention
my lease here has lapsed

I'm not here
I'm checking out
so silent
as to go unseen

taking up space takes more talent
than any talent
I've been deemed

I'm going back into the earth
to the brown
to the dirt-nap
with the grass and the weeds

a-mixed with
the un-sightlies,
the un-seemlies,
the shriveled,
the dried-up
the un-green

I'm checking out
the white out's tipped over
the silence of my experiment
has granted me
sweet invisibility

so silence
is the Never-never
not again
to be seen
go ask the Doorman,
ask the Night Manager,
ask the Cabbie
who always wore the same dirty jeans
I'm
checking
out

So quiet becomes the Grave
as to be all that is unseen.


Legal Copyright for this Poem 8:35pm PST 4/8/2019
and also for this Poet Melissa A. Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title...
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD

This was written directly for the page.
I may or may not come back to re-edit.
Blue Menu.


There are many double-entendres contained within this poem
...The Grave means more than just a hole in the ground...it
literally refers to the person writing this poem.
There are also a lot of other-worldly metaphors
The Doorman, The Cabbie, The Night Manager all refer to
the literal person...but also a Being much greater than that.
This poem may require more than one reading, if you
want to make the effort. Thank you.





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