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Wisdom of the Infinite

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

The Differences

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

The Voice Lost In the Wires

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

All Beings Considered

After Wide Sargasso Sea

Great Big Waterproof World

The Storm

I Turn Forward

Patch-Worked Trilogy

And Then It Wasn't Hard To Be Eight Years Old

Prairie Town Progress

Beyond Door Number Three

Great Spirit

Elise, Elise

The Make-Up of Molecules

Someone Send Out A Search Party

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

Threading Myself Through The River Called Night

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)





At Night I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

morning thoughts (begin again)

Human History is Pockmarked With Tragedy

Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils

More Poetry >>

In Response to Denise Levertov

So what?
Denise doesn't like
the over round words
the unpleasantly plump sounds
of happiness of peace
of sunsets
and picnics where everyone
gorges on cold noodle salad.
No, me thinks she doesn't like them in the least.
But if only these picnics
were in graveyards like
days of old,
then she might believe a little less that they stink.
Denise would be pleased
should all bright round words
by death
be taken by the throat and strangled cold.
But if optimism
like jello at a Midwestern potluck
should abound,
Close cultured ears
dear listeners,
begs Denise,
to any and all beaming sounds.
No poem should ever release,
but strangle
and drag everyone down.
Tis better to remind us
that for our live's entirety
we have allbeen clowns.
Perhaps Denise
you're right,
but only to your opinions at the very least.
Though its truer than true
my poetry
and that of others
maybe bloated,
and somewhat confessional,
somewhat like a penitent to a priest.
Yet, unlike a nun
you are not
keeping your silence
of what you must consider
prettied poetry.
To you,
mass poetry is a violence,
it is a murder.
Perhaps even intellectual blasphemy.
Have I  belabored my point
somewhat beyond its proper length?
Still I feel I must go on.
My point assuredly has its merits.
My points assuredly has its strengths.
you may opine
on poetics and poets
as much and as long as you may wish.
How you must loathe
poems built upon golden couplets,
a common writer's allergen
so much like spoiled tuna fish.
And any man
or any woman
who attempts to put
thought to pen
is not always be what you consider
to be disingenuous,
nor like drinking a strichnine cocktail
you calamitous hen in a foxes den!
I have to admire you
I have to a point,I guess I always will.
I've perused you often.
I once pinched a collection
of your works
when I had no money
to pay the bill.
But Denise
you cannot stop the mass production
of silly purplish poems.
Relax a bit and
let us all think
we're still poets
while you continually protest
with all of your renewed gusto and groans.

After reading a poem by Denise Levertov about BAD POETS and their BAD POETRY.
Yes, Denise, I believe, you did inspire me to write another bad one. We all have to
laugh at and then live with ourselves, now don't we?

Melissa A. Howells/MELOO Tilt-a-World                Copyright November 23rd 2010.

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In Response to Denise Levertov



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