melissaahowells

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2021 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   397732 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
<< [Previous]

For Another Mean New Sun.

THE POCKET DOOR

Dragons

Nameless

Night Train



HOME

Different

wandering the rolling hills ...(written for his model)

All You Have To Do Is Breathe....

Funny, Not Funny

cat speech

A Start Again...(I Green-Dreamed Again Last Night)

Checking Out

All The Changing....

two out of three people

Lonesome Love

A Dog Should Have His Tail...

Some Children Have Nightmares (tentative title)

Enough to Clear The Clouds Away 4/13/2019

Last Night

Only The Choice To Be

With Words, I See A World I No Longer Fit In

of my battered heart

Devious

Crows...writing exercise in honor of April /National Poetry month

When People Go

Weak In The Knees

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

Words

The Finisher's Song

In March (Finally, Spring 2016)

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

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

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.





Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem

Comments

 Email Address

 

Vote for this poem