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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

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Circumstance Changes All

a single Mother works hard
for her own piece of paradise
somewhere in the woods
she and her two children
dwell like eagles high among the cliffs
above a wild wide river

she is kind
she is caring
she is audacious
she is daring
she works diligently
in a job where she gives all of herself
often there seems to be little left
but she manages to be present on the weekends
for her children
for her friends
for the wilderness that is her life

she's earned her piece of heaven
she's got bold plans in the making
she is going somewhere specific when
her working years get over
she's making her persistence pay off

then one morning the smoke of a fire
set by human hand
sets off alarm bells through her heart
throughout the Gorge
she realizes the magnitude
of what she could lose

big plans become instantly small
when she realizes circumstance changes
and the other dreams begin to burn and fall
the children, her friends and a few possessions
the fire cannot take her visions
and her resolve to dream.

written directly to the page
grey snowflakes began blanketing Portland at this week's start
I imagine this is what it was like in 1980, when Mount St. Helen
blew. That was nature. This was man. The forest and all living
creatures stand to lose everything too...their lives.

legal copyright for original work/poem 11:08am PST September 8, 2017.
and also for this writer/author Melissa A. Howells and also for
this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World

this poem is dedicated to our friend, Salena and her family
and her dreams, her right to dream.

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