melissaahowells

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2021 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   398342 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
<< [Previous]

Little Man Orange--My Mister Peanut Butter Trout

Wisdom of the Infinite

THE STITCH IN THE TELEPHONE WIRES

The Differences

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall



I Turn Forward

The Storm

Prairie Town Progress

Beyond Door Number Three

The Make-Up of Molecules

I Will Return

Marinate On This

A Smattering Of Mattering (How Do You Matter)

Threading Myself Through The River Called Night

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

from the tomb of three days sleeping

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

Lemonade Days and Rhubarb Pies

Life Among Clouds

HOW

EVENTUALLY...

THERE WILL BE MORE ...

At Night I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

morning thoughts (begin again)

Human History is Pockmarked With Tragedy

Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils

A Man Of The Clouds

The Cruel In The World (Blue Bag Metaphor)

Somtimes in Surrender

Encounter Before Dawn

Shedding Your Skin

Liminality

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

At Night I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions


************************

what have you done?
--you ask of me

I look into you--
your heart is small
your brain, an attic,
your corrected vision, 20-20,
yet,
you fail to see

who and what surrounds you,
brother?
you look up and see only stars--
whereas, I know I'm made from them
am one with them,
and one day will return to them

"what have you done (lately/implied) with your life?"
you snap...
"you are not made of work!"
"you are poor, meager!"
"you're life is poor and wanting!"
"where have you been? "
"and...what have you done with your
inconsequential life?

inside, I am sad--
outside, I smile thinly.
you don't/won't see me
anymore
you try to erase me with words...
I'm not a chalkboard
upon which you scribble
your rambling non-sensical equations.

I examine his azure eyes,
blue as a cloudless day...
and see there
the high mountains of our distance.

I cannot smile.
this is not satisfaction.
this is poor tragedy,
derived from belligerence
and blindness...

go Brother--
(whispering)

we're strangers
I'm the one standing before you
as you turn away
you deny me

what have you done Brother,
what have you done?


LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 11:11AM 4/20/2020
TIME AND DATE STAMPED...AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER/POET
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