meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

I Long For Stars

I wonder......

Romance For The Unrefined Mind...

Imperfect



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Now Is My Season

The Metaphor That Keeps On Giving...

A Promise Is

Hunger (Whose Is It?)

In Simpatico

All Beings Considered

Not Mine

Illustration

Hello Grief...

What It Means To Go Missing

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For You Who Knows The Rain

Blur

The Seven Billion

Preschool Presence of Mind

Have You Ever Been Blue (self talk of encouragement)

I Talk To A Machine In My Darkness

What Truth There Is When You See It (Maybe I'm A Man...)

transaction and interchange

Throne Of Stars

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

In The Winter Park

Max on the max

And Even Stars Die

Time Does Not Recognize Me

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I Am Time


the face in the mirror
won't answer me
"I have questions..." I say
"I demand answers."
the face remains silent, resolute
the lips embroidered with purple silk
the eyes are barriers of defiance
the brows twin broods of resolve
the hair malignant and writhing
corkscrewed tines in disarray
"Hello!" I say.
picking up a brick from my stack to shatter
the reflection
hers
the face in the mirror collapses
the shoulders hunch like two folding bridges
the hands rise as if to fend off a blow
the purple silken seam dissolves
as the hands pull on the embroidery threads
"There's no need for impatience,
nor insolence..." She says.
the face speaks
she responds as if I am slow-witted
"I am Time..." She declares.
"I answer all."
"I know what becomes of us..."


legal copyright for this poem
and also for this author
Melissa A. Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
December 7. 2017 2017 11:47Am PST date/time stamped
author retains all legal copyrights





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