The Poetry and Short Stories
Melissa R. Mendelson

The Writing Forumís Writer of the Month - December 2008

Page 1 of 2

NEXT - Pg. 2           Website Home



My experience includes working two-years as a news reporter for a Long Island newspaper, currently writing freelance. I have two books of prose poetry published, ďSilent DreamsĒ and ďTears of SandĒ. For ordering information please click here.

My poetry has also been included in several poetry anthologies such as ďNames in a JarĒ, which can be found at, and a portfolio of my work can be found on my blog site at

To visit my page at Authors Den please click here.

To read my short stories published here at The Writing Forum please click here.

My Email:

Click on the button in front of any title in
the list below to be linked to that poem:

  House of Lost Souls
  A Beautiful Dawn of Grey
  Heart Bitter Beat
  Odd Man Out
  Winterís War
  Lost and Item
  Think Away
  Seven Grains
  No Line
  Devils In My Sleep
  Their Love
  No Stone To Throw
  A Haunted Portrait
  Sweet Harvest Moon
  Under Stone
  Never to Forget
  Whenever I Hear a Train
  Empty Sleep
  Four Walls
  Gone Gray
  Still Fighting
  Stealing Rainbows
  No More Winter
  Burning the Winter Away
  Still The Fire Rages
  Eyes in Dark
  Wings of Courage
  Wings Grounded
  What is Family?
  Crimson Dusk

House of Lost Souls
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

I live in a house of lost souls.
We wander still,
but alive.
We stumble,
and we fall.
We try,
but I am still lost, a lost soul,
but alive.


A Beautiful Dawn of Grey
By, Melissa R. Mendelson

A Beautiful Dawn of Grey.
My loved ones have gone far away,
And yet, here I am to stay.
But my love will never sway
Nor warmth of memories to stray.
I know I could never keep death at bay,
And still heíll come my way.
But my love holds me today
And warmth of memories is the sunís ray.
My loved ones may have gone far away,
But they are still here with me to stay,
My beautiful dawn of grey.


Heart Bitter Beat
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

My heart awakes,
and I feel its pain.
I remember
and what I've done.
I can't erase the past.
I just remember why,
but if that pain
does not fade,
then I will,
buried by the past.
Why can't my heart awake
in love
and not anger?
Why must it always be


Odd Man Out
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

My heart breaks,
but its cries are silent
as others laugh and share
their precious memories
of times well spent,
times that I will never know.
For I am the odd man out
and cannot fit into their mold.
I am a puzzle piece
not fit for their unity.
So, I stand in their world
but outside of it
as laughter and feelings
flow through the air
and over me.
Like a shadow,
the past
pulls at my heart,
whispering why
I am not accepted by them,
and I know
that I am not one of them.
Yet, I yearn to forget
the defining moments
that led me
to the person
that I am now
and connect with them.
But that won't happen.
I'm the odd man out.


Winterís War
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

The fog rolls between the war
of winter and sun,
silencing the deafening roar of defeat
as snow becomes rain.
March was always the lion
tearing ground with bitterness,
frost over hope,
but now itís a leopard
with solar flare spots.
And the fog rolls on
between the divide
of how things were
and how they should be,
but the times have changed.
And the sun rages on,
burning this world,
and winter becomes summer,
melting in defeat.


Lost and Item
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

I often wondered as a child
why I would claim lost items,
and now I know
that I was lost,
waiting to be found.
Simple trinkets,
unknown memories
fell into my hand,
and I would take them home.
But then my mother
would make me
take them back,
and they were once again lost,
waiting to be found.


by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Good Night and Good Luck,
he would say
to a world struggling,
a world close to today,
and today,
we struggle still,
trying to break ground
and be who we want.
But in this world today,
we hide,
buried under layers,
an avatar online.
We walk the crisscrossed lines
of the streets of life,
trying not to get snared
in crossfire,
but inside,
we scream,
hearing the voice
of who we really are.
But that reality remains a dream,
but as a year burns away,
another rises.
Seize the day.
Cut the strings
that bind you.
Fly free,
and dream.
Good night,
good luck.


By, Melissa R. Mendelson

My dearest black book,
how I dare not touch
your gentle, white pages
and paint them red
with vivid, painful memories
that tear my heart open.
Photographs of friends
say I was once happy,
but those memories
are far and few between,
falling ever so bravely
across your bookís edge.
A pen tells me,
begs me to write,
but to write
is to relive.
A year came and went,
and you lie still,
closed to the world,
shot down by me
until I save you again,
my dearest black book.


Think Away
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

I donít like thinking on the past,
but I find that itís always there,
an old friend stopping by
and not wanting to leave.
Itís nice to remember the good times,
but the bad ones seem more vivid,
all those mistakes
and no good-byes.
I try not to remember,
but there are days,
where my old friend
keeps on knocking.
So, I open the door,
but after conversation,
pulling at old scars,
I close the door.
Better to think ahead,
I say to myself,
but I think away.


Seven Grains
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Seven years.
Seven grains of sand
of my life
since I returned home,
and Iíve never left.
Another year is fading,
fade to black,
and next year
lies in white.
And Iíll be a year older
with dreams still in hand,
a dove
begging to be set
but the skies are
dark with fear and doubt.
Where do I go from here?
Will another year arrive
and flee
before when,
where I might find


No Line
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

No line.
Iím spiraling into darkness.
The world is gone,
buried six feet deep
of white,
my future.
Will I know love?
Frost falls free
from the swaying trees,
and the trees
fall down,
breaking ground,
my past.
No connection.
Silent is my heart
holding its breath,
a wish
to taste
itís too late.
No line,
and I spiral
into the darkness.


Devils In My Sleep
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Fighting for sleep,
but the devils
won't let me be.
Under the covers, 
they moan in my ear,
tear at my flesh,
and dig deep
into the darkness
behind my eyes. 
I see them.
They crawl
over every corner,
pieces of me,
reaching for my heart.
Their ugly, twisted bodies
consume me, 
bloody shadows
against the walls.
Entangled into each other,
they fall 
against me
in one breath,
a mass
that forms
a lump
in my throat, 
and I try to scream!
But they won,
and I am nothing,


Their Love
(For David and Nan)
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

We always hear the story
of one love,
but to watch
two hearts
fold into one,
itís like catching a rainbow,
whose pot of gold
are smiles to shine
as hands hold,
become one.
Their love
is the kiss
to brush across
the lips
of eternity.
Their love
is golden,
never to fall
under age
but to become
a legend.
Their love
is the dance of hearts,
and we laugh,
we clap,
and we shine
through their brilliance.
We always hear the story
of one love,
but to see
is to believe.
And to see
is to know
their love.


No Stone To Throw
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

The royals are counting gold,
gold no longer paved onto street,
and the paupers walk the stone,
unable to sway to their beat.
Mouths are hanging open.
Signs are in the air.
Hearts are being broken.
This world has lost war to the unfair,
and the past laughs cruel,
for we are the fool.
Old mistakes are our burden to wear,
but is we, who are ready to tear.
So, count your gold, you royals,
gold that belongs to the street
for we no longer walk on stone
but storm across our own beat.


by, Melissa R. Mendelson

I try to be human,
laugh as they laugh,
and be a part
of their life,
but my life
has been unlived
for a very long time.
And I forget
to be human.
I donít feel.
I think,
my mind a wheel
spinning and spinning
until the late
hours of night,
where sleep steals me away,
and then I awake,
And I forget.
My life remains
and my day lies
in repetition.
Iím machine,
a screw in the wheel
of this world,
and I get run over,
forgetting that I am more
than I am.
And when I remember,
I try to be.
I try to laugh
as they laugh.
I cry
when they cry.
an alien presence,
and then I forget
that I am only


A Haunted Portrait
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

I saw the girl
with the feather in her hat
in my darkest hour,
but I was sinking fast.
And nobody was going
to take me home,
and she walked down the hall,
leaving white whispers in the wind.
And nobody would believe a word
that I said.
I was the ghost,
and she was now memory.
I was witness,
and she was gone
with a finger to her lips.
Now, the walls were vacant,
and her portrait was buried
under six feet of dust
in a basement of forgotten thought.
But on this day,
the day I come home,
there she is
back on the wall,
life in perfection
with no such tragedy
to fade to black.


Sweet Harvest Moon
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Sweet harvest moon,
you tell me of this storm,
and it comes with a rage,
an echo of my breaking heart.
Iím as lost as its winds
that search in desperation
of finding home,
and heaven are white waves
kissing footprints along the shore.
And the skies are dark
with fear,
but my heart stays strong,
And love
are stars
that dance
to the sweet harvest moon
as another storm rages,
and as another storm passes
along the corridors
through my life.


by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Iím living as a ghost,
haunted by every waking moment,
every disturbing thought
that maybe Iíll never exist.
Dreams are the sweet embrace
of love,
a love I
may never find,
but all I find
are broken pieces
of past
that draw no more tears
but still cut razor sharp.
And life goes on,
another lost face
in the crowd,
and hollow footsteps
to follow.
I remain disconnected,
of the day,
where I would
finally become


Under Stone
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Iíve buried myself alive.
My heart works no more,
and I donít feel.
I donít love.
I donít need love,
but I dream of finding it,
finding someone to hold me
like a gentle flower
wishing for rain,
but my thorns have grown
razor sharp.
My petals are cupping the world,
and seeds of dreams
are shooting stars.
But Iím still grounded,
held by concrete,
and my life is sidewalk
carved with yellow, double lines,
white chalk.
I need to leave.
I need to fly.
I need to break free,
and I need to love.
But here in this place,
my heart remains stone,
and Iím buried alive.


Never to Forget
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

We forget that monsters exist.
We wish
the world to be perfect,
but it lies far beyond perfection.
Then, something goes terribly wrong.
A hand of violence
brings our dreams down,
and we awake in pain,
We remember.
Monsters truly do exist,
but we beg to forget,
to exist in peace,
but there will be no peace
when monsters are there to bring us


by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Color me green
because I want what you have,
and Iíll do anything for it.
Iíll put my identity on hold
in a vault
and take yours away from you,
and Iíll have what you possess.
Color me red
because I wonít be patient any longer,
and I will stand where you stand.
Color me black
because I was never pure,
and your blood marked me for death
to be executed in their minds.
Their eyes will erase me from sight.
Color me gray
because itís my life story
to live in this cold environment,
where I survive as an animal.
Color me blue
because I have done nothing but cried
as you entered my life
to represent everything Iím not,
and I hate you for existing.
Color me purple
because my skin is bruised
from depressionís bites
and makes me lose control
as I visualize that smile on your face.
Color me in
because I am black and white,
trapped in an old, cracked tv set
that stares out into a world of color
as you sit before me and smile
without judgment in your eyes
and without a label on your shirt
while I try to break this glass
to join with you.
I want to live in your world,
where you are untouched
by the horrors of the past.
I donít want to be shaded anymore,
but there is no remote
to change this station.
So that I can enter your world.
Iím trapped watching you through this static
while you donít bother reading between the lines,
and I hate you
because youíre me
existing in another time and another place,
because you were able to change with time
and go from static to color.


Whenever I Hear a Train
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Whenever I hear a train,
I want to run.
I always wanted to run.
Since I was a child,
I would stand before the open door,
but then the door would slam shut.
I never knew
where it was
that I was supposed to go,
and instead of running free,
I caught the wrong train,
ending up
on the other side
of my world.
And I hear it now.
The ticket is in my hand,
and the path
is finally clear.
But I still donít know
where it is
that calls me,
has called to me
since that first train whistle.
Iím scared.
Change is hard
especially for me,
but Iíve let the world
pass me by.
Iím done running on empty.
Iím done standing still.
The trainís coming,
to take me


Empty Sleep
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Love for me
is a dream gone cold,
and I wish to feel
his hand
against my heart.
They hold hands,
pass me by,
and dream,
dream of love,
but I dream no more.
I look no further
for pain of the past
is fresh in memory.
I won't hurt
like that
no more,
so my dreams remain empty.
I walk alone,
but the dream of love
lingers still,
whispering through
the corridors of my heart.
And I know that I
will dream
of love
one day again.


Four Walls
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

We live within four walls.
The door slams shut,
cutting the circulation of the world,
and we drown in quiet.
Only our thoughts are the voices
in our heads,
and these four walls promise
to keep us safe.
But then the door opens,
and the world pours through,
drowning us in its misery.
And we need to escape,
return to our sanctuary
that will keep our sanity,
but we can't remain
within four walls.


Gone Gray
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Soft rain falls down,
echo of tears
I can no longer cry.
My heart is broken.
My soul is drifting
across the beauty
of an acoustic guitar,
and lyrics beg to sweep me away.
But Iím here.
Iím here,
holding my heart,
and worrying,
worrying about the future
that may come.
Will my dreams give me light again?
Will hope take my hand?
The music plays on,
and rain falls down.
And Iím still here,
drifting across melody,
a stained-glass window
that paints away
a world gone gray.


Still Fighting
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

I can't remember life without war.
Gunfire rocks my television set,
and violence reigns,
feeding my hunger for justice.
Our world was destroyed,
and we fought back.
And we're still fighting,
but do we remember
So many lives have been lost,
and the tears of tragedy
have stained the pages of history
forever dark
for monsters will always be born.
And they will always be hunted down.
And we're still fighting.
I can't remember
life without war,
war that becomes the lines of definition
for heroes on the rise,
heroes protecting us,
and we can't forget
their love,
their sacrifice.
They're still fighting,
and this war
rages on.


Stealing Rainbows
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Conflict are the rapid waterfalls
carrying my pain away,
and the words of peace
are the bubbles rising
to break the tension
that tries to
hold me still.
Serenity takes my hand,
leading me to rest
against the warm breath
of dreams rustling
to live,
and all my angst
fades away.
And now I am
but water
over into
heart and soul.


No More Winter
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

The death of winter has come,
but she fights to survive,
cover this world in white.
But beauty wonít lie still,
frozen for another time.
The flowers are flickering,
seeds of love are begging,
and the sun wishes to shine.
No more dark clouds.
No more turmoil
to tear this earth apart.
Smiles are the stars igniting,
and summerís breath
is almost near,
a whisper of a leaf
ready to unfold.
So, let winter fade,
for itíll return.
This world will sleep once more
under white,
but not now.
Now, this moment,
this time
belongs to youth,
so free yourself from burden.
And dream a thousand dreams tonight.


by, Melissa R. Mendelson

The stars spend their time
running round and round,
chasing comet tails,
and I sit back,
admiring their beauty.
The three kings wink with promise,
and the milky way drinks in my dreams.
But Iím still standing still.
My cocoon refuses to break.
I canít take flight.
I am no longer the prisoner
of my fear,
and laziness cannot hold me down.
But I canít hear my heart.
Am I still alive?
Was I a star that burned too fast,
left cold
because I stopped looking
for love?
I donít trust men.
Too many horror stories,
but I would love
for a sweet kiss
to touch my lips
and fill my heart.
Tell me that I am alive,
a star waiting to shine.
Instead, the stars race against time,
and I have
no time left.
Rise and shine,
or wither and burn.
But for now,
in this moment,
I sit back,
drinking in beauty
of another night
gone too soon.


Burning The Winter Away
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

My heart is on fire.
Love is winter,
forever cold,
but my tears are melting.
Iím still alone,
but my dreams burn,
lighting the stars above,
keeping hope alive.
Love will find me here,
and I will never be frozen
with the fear
of wasting my life.
I still dream,
and the webs of inspiration linger overhead
like a spider, who would forever spin.
But she is no longer widow.
She dreams
against the frost of the glass,
waiting for love to come home,
and now the rose petals
are painted red.
Hearts whisper like a ghost
traced by a finger.
The world disappears in white,
but I donít fade away.
My heart remains on fire.


Still The Fire Rages
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

It's like a fire out of control,
a raging inferno
consuming humanity,
and you hope
for a wave of sanity
to wash away the pain.
But I can still see the flames
burning the other side
of this world.
Its hunger is insatiable,
and reason is engulfed,
a burnt crisp
with a thousand feet
crushing it into the ground.
And lives are now forever changed.
Peace is an ember,
twisting in the ash of violence,
and the charred remains
to be left beind this inferno
will haunt a future ignited,
a past forever gone.
And still the fire rages,
consuming all in its path,
and the stars no longer burn,
defeated for their beauty
is destroyed,
distant dreams falling
from the sky.


Eyes in Dark
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Eyes in dark
are lost forever.
No trace or mark.
Never found, never.

Gone from light.
Nothing the same.
Trapped in the night.
This isn't a game.

Same place.
Different things.
Different face.
Nothing the same.

Lost in the dark.
Trapped in the night.
My heart is the lonely dog's bark.
My life is portrait consumed in white.


Wings of Courage
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Heroes are the young
that leave us too soon.
Their courage are the fires never to cease,
light to chase away our darkness,
but still our tears fall.
Rose petals drift across the rivers of time,
whispering their name,
and we hold to the ghost
of them left behind.
We dream of heroes rising
in our time of need.
We need someone to believe in,
someone to take the villains away,
but the damage is done.
And the heart of the young
roars like a mighty lion
ready to jump into the storm,
but in selflessness lies sacrifice.
And they can never return home,
but they saved the world.
And in that,
we have to believe,
and we cannot fall down.
But still we cry in despair,
left to walk alone,
but their dreams remain
a fire burning in heart,
courage for the soul.
So, we wipe our eyes,
and we rise,
living for them,
fulfilling a silent promise
to keep their spirit alive.
And with mighty wings
do they take flight,
soaring over white clouds of heaven
and across the strings of life.
We will see them again.
Our heroes never die.
Theyíre the essence of dreams,
the moonlight of soul,
and the guardian angels
that will forever carry us
into the arms of love.


Wings Grounded
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

I am a bird
still residing in a cage,
and my heart is breaking
to be freed.
My wings could touch heaven.
My soul would soar
through the arms of this world.
Nobody could tear me down,
but I lock myself away.
I am afraid to fly.
So many times,
I hear the call,
the chance
to live,
and I want to go.
But I don't fly.
I am weighed down
by all that I am,
and maybe I am addicted
to myself.
I can't let go,
so I remain.
I am a bird
locked in a cage,
watching the world
roll on by,
and opportunity opens the door.
But instead of singing in praise,
I draw blood.
I repeat
the same mistakes
over and over again.
Maybe I am
my own worst enemy,
and my wings refuse
to carry such burden.
I remain
locked within
the prison
of myself.


What is Family?
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

What is family?
Soft, golden rays of sun
race across deep, blue water,
breathtaking in sight,
the touch of life,
but the waters could run cold,
washing conflict across the shore,
and drown deep into misery,
turmoil over time.
But love never dies.
The waves keep flowing
over warmth and bitter,
touching the shore
to ease the pain left behind,
promising forgiveness,
but could we ever forgive?
Whispers of hope
trickle down across
soft, golden rays of sun,
never leaving the waters
that sparkle below,
bonds never
to be broken,
the definition of family.


Crimson Dusk
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Another year is passing by,
and the seasons are changing fast.
Amber gold are the autumn leaves
that fall with grace
across soft, loving memories,
whispering of those
no longer here
but of those,
who will never leave
our hearts.
Forest green decorates majestic mountains,
breathtaking scenery
to remind us of natureís beauty,
and we must remember
to breathe.
Tension are the waves of rain
drowning our sorrows,
but we hold strong,
fighting the storm
that rises still.
And ashes of another year
are to be relit by
the promise
of a new beginning,
giving us light
to face the unknown.
Now is the time to remember,
laugh instead of cry,
and smile at the little things
that will chase shadows of doubt
away from our minds.
Now is the time of change,
where beauty wears crimson,
where pumpkins grin
from ear to ear,
and where memories stir,


NEXT - Pg. 2           Website Home