melissaahowells

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2022 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   522385 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
<< [Previous]

ANOTHER REFRIGERATOR POEM 7/2/2022

A NOT-S0-SILLY ANTI-POETRY DITTY

In And In Between The Silence 6/21/2022

Not Alone In the Darkness (As I Once Thought I Was)

Miss Tilt-a-World@



Each One Of Them Is Accounted For (And Matters)

Like Books Full Of Stories Stacked Behind Her

Call It Grace (another Anti-poem)

Lights Out

Saudade: the feeling of wanting to be near someone who is far and distant

That No One But I Will Know (anti-poetry)

To Be In The Way

For My Brother T. J. ( 7/15/2022)

That Once Respite Cave

Dr. Frankenstein's Surprise (Re-Galvanized)

A Stranger In a Strange And Angry Land.

Crimson Lake (From 2008, flashing forward to 2022/April 19)

Words Being Yours...Until The Grave 4/23/2022

The Fire Once Within Goes Cold From Lack

Summer Storms / Electric Monsters

Your Candle Burning In the Wind

On Sunny Days , As I Pose For The Skies 3/17/2022

You Are Not What You Think 3/7/2022 11:56Pm PST

We'll Decide That For YOU

Fisherman's Woman's Lament

That Time Love Took Off Running On Its Achilles Heels....

VALENTINE--WITHOUT YOU 2/19/2022

His Bitter Chocolate Heart (refrigerator magnet poem)

THE HOOVER DAM/NEWLY RE-CONSTRUCTED 2/19/2022

Tender Love New And Quick...

I COULD BECOME SOME KIND OF LUCKY 2/19/2022

UN-THREAD THE NEEDLE (OF TIME)

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

THE MILES THAT ARE LEFT TO GO...


my legs are so much older than I am
one works
and one does not

at night
I prop myself up
in my bed
its a warm space
however, I don't sleep
a lot

my right hand aches
so my left hand fills in
when the other
cannot

I'm learning
to live differently
to practice accepting
the sort of choices most people
would not

I count the stars
I talk to the moon
I make stories up in my head
I keep myself company into the night
and journey when others snore
and dream away in their beds

I grab the covers
massage them with my feet
I swaddle my weary head
I have tried prescriptions
and magical potions
and God knows what
Exhaustion works
the very best so far.

I wonder how much longer
I'll be waiting here
And will there be talk of me ever
after I'm dead


we all occupy a space that's ours
and when that space goes bare
where exactly do we go
does a zephyr carry us gently up
floating peacefully
into the night expansive air

will I be recycled
will I simply be gone
will I be like a blank un-filled-in space
what if part of me lingers on
to continue witnessing
what I'm supposed to miss
and see how I've been
replaced

will I be a ghost
will I roam the earth
will I haunt the places
I have been and never been
will I be the dust to mix with the rain
that falls upon the earth
that bossoms and bursts all new green life
cycling over and over again

if there are miles between
what's here and now
or
if there are but a few blocks
let each moment of my last days
be ones to cherish
when I am finally lost.


LEGAL COPYRIGHT 10/20/2020
3:21 pm PST TIME AND DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS POET/WRITER MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED
SITE TITLE-MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD







Vote for this poem