meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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Like A Snow-globe

these times they have changed us

visions of sugarplums by the river bank

Mrs. Stine, Isn't It Time?

Come On Now



So Much Beauty

And Even Stars Die

Certain Succulent Pieces Of Time

Wiki-The-Tricky-Trap-Tapped-Us

I Speak for Those Whose Voice Would Be Taken Out Of Social Circulation

I Talk To A Machine In My Darkness

What Is This Death? ( As I Grow Older And Nearer To It)

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

un-Completion (I Prefer It)

Hope You Like It, Not

A Tesseract OrTwo

Woman Of A Certain Age

Deportation

Here They Are Triumphant, The Crows

Lost Before You Began

And You May Be The Reaper

Confetti Universe

Limitless

What If

I Wish You Well (a prayer)

Covering Up Vs Uncovering

What'll I Do, Without You

So You Do

For the Years of Dancing (Dance Hall Days Gone)

whern night becomes day

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

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When It Was So Grand To  Pretend To Be An Eskimo


the snow has convinced the sun
to hide away
it is nearly nine
yet the sky is dull and greyed
and during the night
it was velvet violet
densely blotting out stars
with an eon of falling flakes
muffling the earth
trapping the city
in a blanketing of forced quiet

the piles of white
have filled our snow globe wilderness
up to its brim
as i sit brooding within
dreaming of forts and shovels
and childhood's lost landscapes
flying down white hills in saucers
sloughing along in drift in moon boots
echoing voices in the warming house
and the sharp slap of hockey pucks
against the boards
and the slicing of skate blades skirting new ice

a time when
winter snow was a backdrop
a device for the long days into night
of childhood
when it was so grand to pretend to be
an Eskimo
and build forts from blocks of snow

white puffs of air
form now in front of me
as I sleep my dreams
of seven-story high drifts
in a winterish wonderland

I awaken rosy cheeked
and braced
with a craving for hot cocoa
and the crinkling crush of snow
under my little deer-feet tracks
the broad smile growing on my face
as I lick the falling flakes from the
fresh cool air.



January 10th, 2017 9:27 am PST
thinking of childhood days in North Dakota
legal copyright for this work/memory/poem
for the legal copyright poetry site/title
by this writer/author Melissa A Howells
Meloo Straight from her Tilt-a-World





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