meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

And Then It Wasn't Hard To Be Eight Years Old

Just Beyond The Door

Great Spirit

Elise, Elise



MOLECULES

Someone Send Out A Search Party

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

threading myself through the river of night

After Wide Sargasso Sea

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Dragons

HOW

EVENTUALLY...

THERE WILL BE MORE ...

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

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

A Man Of The Clouds

The Cruel In The World (Blue Bag Metaphor)

Somtimes in Surrender

Encounter Before Dawn

Shedding Your Skin

Liminality

How Does It, How Do You Matter?

NEEDING /KNEADING MORE (sometimes)

WHAT WILL YOU THINK GENTLE READER, AFTER YOU'VE FINISHED READING THIS?...We Are All Star Children

Not My Season

I WILL RETURN

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Falling Leaf, Falling Man/Woman, Rising Star


*****************
its past noon
I watch
a golden maple leaf fall.

I think
falling wouldn't be so hard
if one had wings
if one could simply sift
drift down
meandering the sky
in a cross stitch pattern
casually letting some of the stitches
unravel
til you landed
gently.

falling for some
might be like that.

seventeen years ago
people fell
from the morning sky
some holding hands
some hesitating
swan dives without wings
while millions watched
over and over again
in real time
in reel time
helpless
terrorized.

that morning before dawn
I recall
I dreamed of a great fire
and woke up sweating
while outside an unexpected early autumn chill
swept the air through my open windows.

this morning the rain fell
and the leaves of the clipped maple tree tumbled
below and also struck my bedroom window.

below
I see how
on the pavement they resemble
flattened stars
their five golden points representing
a head, arms, legs
the stem,
a trailing tail
where its path once traced the air.

only yesterday evening
I'd been looking at images
from seventeen years ago
their images a tangle of emotions
and grief.

odd then how
last night
for once
I woke only twice
and then somehow
slept the last three hours through
though not undisturbed

again this morning
I recall a dream of trailing golden light
a sensation of being upside down
somersaulting fearfully
only to discover that the tips of my very fingers
were sprouting wings.

I awoke
the curtains cast aside from the bedroom window
to a golden five-prong maple leaf
stuck and struck to the pane.

and then an odd thought surfaced
one of getting a singular tattoo
of an inverted woman
gazing upwards and
falling
her arms spread wide
suspended momentarily in a golden light
as her stem-like tail trailed behind
her small hands becoming wings...
 (fledgling feathers forming
at the fingertips.)

I think to myself:
"follow through
with this..."

How like fallen stars of gold
they were and
we are
(I am...)
five-pointed stars of maple leaves.
inverted people
our eyes gazing up
beseeching
searching for
some hope
some grace
our heaven.

*****************

maybe you will not make the connections I made.
maybe you will. maybe I need to go back and make edits.
this is the result for now...1:45pm PST time/date stamped
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...AND HOW APROPOS A WORLD LIKE
THAT TODAY DOES SEEM. AMEN










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