melissaahowells

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2020 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   368592 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
<< [Previous]

Like The Wind In The Middle Of The Night

Uncovered

The Blue Buffalo

Little Man Orange--My Mister Peanut Butter Trout

Not Someone's Grand Illusion



Wisdom of the Infinite

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

THE STITCH IN THE TELEPHONE WIRES

Patch-Worked Trilogy

I Turn Forward

The Storm

Prairie Town Progress

Beyond Door Number Three

And Then It Wasn't Hard To Be Eight Years Old

Elise, Elise

A Bird, A Fly, A Cripple (Pity Poem?)

The Make-Up of Molecules

HOW

Haiku's In Triplicate

THERE WILL BE MORE ...

EVENTUALLY...

The Change In The Change(s)

At Night I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

Human History is Pockmarked With Tragedy

EXPECT COMPLICATIONS

A New Clear

What Exactly Comes Next?

Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils

morning thoughts (begin again)

Encounter Before Dawn

Somtimes in Surrender

The Cruel In The World (Blue Bag Metaphor)

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

Liminality


not quite
but somewhere in between
that is where I've been
wanting to finish
but feeling,
yet unfinished

bridges uncrossed
avenues and streets un-turned
the past may be my past
yet it has returned--
so circular.
liminality is not
the reality
most would chose to chose

tangentially.
existing on the fringes here,
of society,
due to also once again having
no choice of my own...
it has to do more with
who and what lived in and with
within my home
growing up
overwhelmed,
mostly alone

the equivalent
of anti-structuralism
equals chaos
not many gains to grasp
but much left to loss
this is how I explain
trauma
and its long toss,
and the ways in which trauma
entered in
encompassing my life

whenever these three
elements enter
they became intertwined with strife,
weirdness and a sort of
paranormal normality
no wise person wants to dwell
within this sort of odd asymmetry
and ambiguity.

its not so subliminal
when its liminal
and marginal
chaos ensues
and stays.


YOU MIGHT FIND THIS A VERY ESOTERIC STREAM-OF-CONSCIENCENESS
SORT OF FROLIC...I DON'T ALWAYS HAVE THE INTENTION OF BEING
STRAIGHT THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR WITH WHAT I AM TRYING TO SAY.
WHAT I AM DESCRIBING IS SOMEWHAT ON THE FRINGES, OUT OF
THE REALM OF PERHAPS THE MAJORITY OF FOLK'S LIFE EXPERIENCES...
BUT I BANK ON THE HOPE THAT THERE ARE SOME WHO WILL IMMEDIATELY
UNDERSTAND. THAT WILL BE MY AUDIENCE FOR THIS POEM. THANK YOU


LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 1/8/2020 11:23AM PST
AND ALSO FRO THIS POET/WRITER MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD...





Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem

Comments

 Email Address

 

Vote for this poem