melissaahowells

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2022 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   455377 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

Words Between Edward And Jane

When You Learn Who You Really Are And What Is...

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

My Grey Haired Love...La La Lullaby , La La Lullaby My Love



You Do As You Please 8/17/2005 found poem, readjusted 6/20/22

Anti-Poem Number Three 8/2/2022 Or, A Poem Your Proper Mother Wouldn't Write

We Are The Generators

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

I LOVE YOU ALWAYS ANYWAY AND INSTEAD

Talk To Me In The Dark 7/8/2022

ANOTHER REFRIGERATOR POEM 7/2/2022

In And In Between The Silence 6/21/2022

Each One Of Them Is Accounted For (And Matters)

The Fire Once Within Goes Cold From Lack

Like Books Full Of Stories Stacked Behind Her

Call It Grace (another Anti-poem)

Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

A NOT-S0-SILLY ANTI-POETRY DITTY

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)

When Mr. Bemish Lost His Last Good Pair of Glasses

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

Summer Storms / Electric Monsters

Your Candle Burning In the Wind

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

The House Is Alive


the house does not ever sleep
I heart her heartbeats
in the measured click of clock hands
the refrigerator does not rest
and the water awaits the turn of a knob

there are remnants of those who've gone before
shaved hairs, clipped toenails and puffs of dark fur
that hide in the corners
skin cells shed creating dust

occasionally I hear rustling
amid the hush
I feel I'm never quite alone
in this house which doesn't sleep
sometimes I bolt awake
like some inner clock giving me a push


it know the promises we made to each other
it knows the ones we made to ourselves
yet often forgot to keep

the fan whirs and disperses the molecules
our dreams
our clouds of breath
our fears
the fan purrs and reminds of
being in the womb
the warm haven
surrounded by our mother's thoughts

in the furthest corners
half-shadowed
lying in wait lie the days demons
and the rearing ghosts of doubt
the intrepid night light leads the way
and does its best to banish them away
like a shaman commanding demons to move out

passing car lights
flicker and climb to the ceiling
hint at movements outside
hidden strangers driving past
their lights settle on bare shoulder
a rising chest
but move on past

the house is a body
the house is alive at night
the house is here to protect

still
we lie in bed vulnerable and fragile
not knowing how she
is our unsleeping sentry
ever vigilant
in the daylight
she can rest.




legal copyright for this poem 8;41pm PST 11/9/2020 time date stamped
and also for this writer/poet Melissa A. Howells and also for this
legally copyrighted and REGISTERED  site title:
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World


WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE, WILL COME BACK FOR EDITS LATER.





Vote for this poem