meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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

Enough to Clear The Clouds Away 4/13/2019

Devious

Checking Out

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home



Someone Send Out A Search Party

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

Words

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

Unwelcomed Like So Much Unfinished Business

In March (Finally, Spring 2016)

All For Algernon

Weak In The Knees

The Finisher's Song

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

All Beings Considered

This Is It

Max on the max

I Long For Stars

Falling Leaf, Falling Man/Woman, Rising Star

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

Its About Waking In The Middle Of The Night And Having To Write It All Down

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

If I Could Be The Sky...

It Feels Better To Be Unfinished (Wish-Unspoken, But With My Eyes)

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what happens
when the money runs out
when I loose my looks
when I can no longer walk talk feed myself

no, I am not planning my funeral yet
but I am thinking of how finite I am.
even though I originate from star dust
from whence I must return
I've been told

they say the children being born today
will live for 150 years or longer
immortality is not the way to go, I believe
I would like my subscription canceled long before that
what would one do with an ocean of time
and what a tax upon Mother Earth and Her resources
It's true,

I relish my share of cherry pink sunrises, finch purple sunsets
azure blue skies and billowing cloud sculptures
the splashing of rain on my naked face
the randomness of a sudden gust of wind
the soft reassuring cool caress of a zephyr on a summer's day
the sweetness of robin songs and the green smell of a new spring
the head butts and lick-laps of my aging Himalayan boy-cat
and the raucous laughter and play of yip-dogs and children in the park

oh
and I love flea markets and odd strange people
and poetry readings and people pouring their hearts out
and inventive language
and books and art and dance and music
and movies and movies and movies
and all of the flora and fauna and the way earth meets sky
and I am mad for color...a whole rainbows of it
and swimming like a mermaid because I can float and swim for
almost a mile and not tire and not really stop
and I love to dance and look into peoples eyes when they let me
when I am not feeling shy
as I've gotten older I have a particular penchant for a certain
green-eyed person and well, also my cat too who has green eyes

there is a long unending list of simple things
that I shall miss
when I am gone
and I wonder too if I am one of those items that will
go amiss
and does the world become altered when
we are suddenly zapped into the next world next body next soul
minus the 21 grams we've left behind

I wonder
how many people will mind
that I am gone

what if everyone got to have a story written about them
at the end of their life
not just a blurb in the newspaper
not just something morbid like an obit or an epitaph
or a tear-filled eulogy

I am thinking that I would like
a Doctor Seuss type tale written about me
and read aloud to a big crowd
something like that would make me grin
and I would be so proud that I had been here

a one time ticket to this grand old world

and don't people love it when they can laugh
instead of cry
yes
I wouldlike to laugh more than cry the short while I am here.


Copyright April 10th, 2015 All Rights Reserved By This Author
I haven't written in a long while so its a relief to be here.
Thank you for reading. This is kind of rant, not a poem.
All poetry/prose, ideas/rants are the legal property of this writer.
Meloo/Melissa A Howells straight from her Tilt-a-World





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