melissaahowells

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The Petty Player Who Rarely Sleeps

I'd Like A Taste (The Wolf Said)

The Crow Is A Black Bird

When I Start to Bloom

I'd Like To Be Your Shirt (when you wake up in the morning)



All Beings Considered

Words Between Edward And Jane

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

After Wide Sargasso Sea ( For Those of You Readers Who Have Empathy For the First Mrs. Rochester.)

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

Wild and Unraveling

What Must Be

These Hands Exist July 4 2023 rei-edited 7/12/2023

I Am The Color Of Black

The Tide of Your Lies (2019-2023)

How I Wanted Your Pearls 6/24/2023 WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE

Love Wants What Love Wants re-edited 5/31/023

Winter's Been Too Long.... 4/18/2023 (LONGING)

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

At Night, As I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

And You Will Be Called Ashes As You Leave ( from a dream)

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

Someone Send Out A Search Party

THE FAN , AT NIGHT, GIVES GOOD ADVICE completely re-edited, an entirely different poem

What Is The Price For Your Touch? re-editied 5/31/2023

Where Is My Bed With The Pleasing Tree -Lined View(NOW REEDITED)

Oh What Fine Physics (Before Me ,Lies) re-edtited @4/17/2023

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

THE COMPANY THAT WE KEEP WITH THE ONE WITHIN

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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
blue
I and T.J., navy
Greg, turquoise
blue
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
differently
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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