meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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No Addmittance/Doors Shut

Poem Untitled, But, If Not For You

The Un-Promised Land

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

(You're) Still Here



I Know Most Who I Am When You Are In The Room

I Travel Every Time I Think Of You

From The Desert

As Sick As My Secrets

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

Then The Little Silver Fish Came

I Keep My Ray Bans Handy

Upwards Into The Swirling Sea Of White.

He's There

Oh, Now, The Pink Moon

And Even Stars Die

You Are Not My Audience, I Just Borrowed You For Awhile

why not ask the cat?

Odd Thoughts and Juxtapositions

Some Meaningful Proof For A Hopeful Dreamer's Eyes

Ramada

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

Beauty

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

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

the life and times of Medusa

I Talk To A Machine In My Darkness

A Man Called Tsuris

Tuesday afternoon in the jewelry box

All Beings Considered

Disappear

Woman Of A Certain Age

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Make (of)  Me A Snow Angel


I made a snow angel
for your heart
you looked the other way
you're getting better at that
getting better at it each and every day

you're the engine that could
run away
from it all

I've got my snow suit on
and you're sitting in your chair
moping inside
the king at the computer
talking to the world
you do have your powers

I play hand puppets with the shadows
in the fading light on the walls of our bedroom
I am ready to go outside
play hide and seek
do anything

I'd cut my hair off so you would notice me
(would I?)
so I could be your pixie girl
so you might think I could change the world
again

the snow globe has tipped over
I think there is a crack in it
I think it might break
the swing set inside it is moving back and forth
like there is going to be an earthquake

or maybe another heart attack
are you coming back
or taking off again
even when you
are here you never seem to stay
when will you come out to play

I am getting tired of
waiting
I think boy
you need to turn the globe around
shake things up

and start making snow flakes

I think boy you need to find some boots
and a snow suit

there's only one way out of this
and you know it

get your butt out the front door
lay down on the ground like it
was a floor
and make

your snow angel

I don't care if it is
July.


Copyright September 9 2014
A reworking from a poem started earlier in mid July
All Rights reserved by this Author
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
Melissa A Howells/ all rants/poetry/prose/dreams/ideas
are the sole legal property of this writer





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