melissaahowells

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2022 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   455071 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
<< [Previous]

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

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

What Is The Price For Your Touch

We'll Decide That For YOU

Fisherman's Woman's Lament



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

It No Longer Surprises Me...

VALENTINE--WITHOUT YOU 2/19/2022

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

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

HERE WE SIT AT OUR TABLE 2/19/2022

UN-THREAD THE NEEDLE (OF TIME)

THE GLASS BETWEEN MY SELVES

Words Between Edward And Jane

A Poem From The Dark

AND THE NIGHT SKY WOULD BECOME BLUE AGAIN

I Woke Up /// re-edited 2/2/2022 12:31PM

Granddad John James re-edited 10:05Pm 1/31/22

A Girl Is More Than a Beautiful Box re-edited 10:15pm PST 1/31/22

The Grapes (Lucious Grape/ August 31, 2005

A Girl Always Leaning Forward Looking for A Breeze

TAKE YOUR PEN NOW AND SEE WHAT YOU WILL WRITE

You Taught Me...

Thank You For Being Your Own Treasure

How Hounds-tooth Became Her Friend

A Language You Can't Ignore.... re-edited 1/12/2022

They Say The Preying Mantis Is No Lady

You Can Oh Yes You Can (RE-EDITED 1/9/2021 12:07AM PST time and date stamped.)

I'd Like To Be Your Shirt (when you wake up in the morning)

HERSTORY...NOT A POEM BUT EXPERIENCE #ONE

I Saw A Star And Dared to Reach For It

The Invitation..( the message of .come as you are>>)

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

THE CRYPT OF THE KEPT AND THE KEEPER


the skies
for all their November blue-brilliance
are poised for
rain

they cry for all of yesterday's
remembrances

and I am my brother's keeper
and I am my Mother's pretended friend
and my Father's lost soul

who are you
in all of this
blue-brilliance
this sky show
of last leaves
and ruby glow
so scarlet
they remind me of blood
and the ties which no longer tie

November is the month
where memory goes to die
and wither
and fall to the ground
waiting for winter winds to sweep
them all around

we who have slumbered through
this year that never was
a parade of ghosts
and lack of showing
where is everyone and everything going

to the dusk
and to the dust
and to the shroud
what are these shadow words
we scream aloud
full of voice
but meaning
almost nothing.


legal copyright for this poem 1:33pm PST time and date stamped
directly to the page
and also for this writer/author Melissa A. Howells
and also for this Legally Copyrighted and Registered Site Title
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD





Vote for this poem