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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What It Means To Go Missing


How can I elaborate on
something gone
but not quite here

most parts oxygen
not resembling air
but floating away
far far from itself

what view would describe it
this incalculable thing?

once it was someone
now its become a thing
far far removed
as if it lived in a tower
on a rocky island
in a narrow narrow inlet
surrounded by a Salton sea
once whole but no longer a part
of the whole
a mere farthing of reality

why do people look
but do not examine
don't move too near
its too dear a prospect
to get too close

this specimen doesn't like proximity
nor spectators with spectacles near
this being was once varied and real
but has been altered

somewhere
some spring in her sprung
and now merely falters

the experience of seeing her is
like looking down into the well of a sink
as something shimmers down its pipes
or is it more like
staring up into a rosy-pink morning
trying to recall a distant night...

and
was there ever, youth
how I/you/we feel so-so removed
from myself/ourselves
I've become a stranger gaping
but not daring,
to look in

they say I've always led with my shins
then fallen down
gotten bruised
I never healed well

did they/do they know
you can't stop the deep snows from coming
or what it means to go missing
from your life
as well,
ah, these are truly not
Prognosticators.







Not everything is required to make absolute sense;
however, this makes sense to me and to many I know, now.
And that makes all the difference, to me.


legal copyright for this poem/work/manifesto
and also for this author/writer/poet
Melissa A. Howells and also for this legally
copyrighted site title: Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World

time/date stamped 3:45pm PST February 27, 2018

thank you for reading and constructive
feedback

Re-edited for clarity/punctuation/spelling
on 4/17/2018 2:18PM PST and time date stamped
 and legally copyrighted





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