meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

      Poet's Home             All Poetry       Sign Up!  Login
© 2000-2017 Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.   242792 Poems Read.

Search for Poetry

   


Read Poetry
Deportation

A DOOR CLOSES

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Woman Of A Certain Age

Lost Before You Began



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)

Hot Sauce Packet Poem

whern night becomes day

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

A Man Called Tsuris

Now I Am The One Who Chooses To Chose

why not ask the cat?

my words and how they're worth a lot to me

Not A Good-bye Day

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

Heir Egoisto...

The Life of Tigger

Lucky Was Easy

This Home I Long For Yet Have Never Seen

I Feel Fine(r)

Where Did Mrs Smith and Her Little Pink House Go?..

God Created The Universe, Then Look Who Happened

Outside the Window, Frozen

The Tail (tale) She Had Long and Tall and High And Proud

More Poetry >>

 
Features

  Sign Guestbook

Read Guestbook

 
   

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





Vote for this poem

Please Comment On This Poem

Comments

 Email Address

 

Vote for this poem