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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Some Children Have Nightmares (tentative title)

Night Train


wandering the rolling hills ...(written for his model)

All The Changing....


Lonesome Love

two out of three people

A Start Again...(I Green-Dreamed Again Last Night)

The Little Bird Said

cat speech

Funny, Not Funny

All You Have To Do Is Breathe....

Satire and Sarcasm...Before The Parade Passes You By


A Dog Should Have His Tail...

Enough to Clear The Clouds Away 4/13/2019

Checking Out


Hope Is Sometimes The Best Of All You've Got (definition poem)

Last Night

Someone Send Out A Search Party

Crows...writing exercise in honor of April /National Poetry month


Only The Choice To Be

When People Go

The Day You Left (Words From A Half-Remembered Dream)

Wake Wake Wake

It Is In The Rain

Dream Goblins Of The Night

Wake And Remember

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How She Loved Blue

oh how
she loved blue
the raucous jay and the poem
about the little bird speaking to
the small child

oh how she loved blue
the wildness of it
look over yonder
that meant everything
the whole tarnation of it
moving and living and creeping and stirring
under the big blue possibility of the universal sky

how she loved blue
flowers especially
bachelor buttons and bluebells
and shy violets and status
and morning glories
she would stick her nose
deep into any/every flower and smell
smell smell
coming up pollen coated like
a bee's sticky feet

how she loved blue
fruit grapes and figs
and plums
the Italian prune plums
I would prick each one with a straight pin
and fill sterilized jars with them
as she poured the steaming sweet syrup
over them and we watched the clear
jars fill up with blue-purple liquid
oh so delicious
later on becoming figgy pudding
for Christmas or cools plums
in a lunch time dish

how she loved blue
clothes many of them sewn on her '53 Singer
blue cut offs in the summer
blue denim skirts with gingham shirts
(with a little paprika red and olive green
thrown in for good measure)
and various shades of blue silk blouses
for Sunday choir her favorite treasures

how she loved blue
and at one time how she loved
my Father
who has my eyes
the darkest of navy
all of my Mother's children have his eyes
I and T.J., navy
Greg, turquoise
I suspect at one time
I know at one time
how she loved my Father too

but this isn't one those
complicated poems with a side agenda
but you can call my brothers and I blue
because we all have blue eyes
and so then it fits the theme of the poem again
"how she loved blue"
for she loved us
each in her own way
and complicated
as Mothers can be
we all miss her
I miss her

otherwise, I would not be writing about her
my heart aches so much sometimes I have to stop
so that I can finish this thought
she died suddenly
there was no real explanation
sometimes things are just so blue.

Copyright September 14, 2014 All Rights Reserved By This Author
Meloo/Melissa A Howells Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
All Dreams/Ideas/Prose/Poetry are the Legal Property of this Writer

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