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Always Deep Blue (written 7/3-7/6/2022)

THE GLASS BETWEEN MY SELVES

A Poem From The Dark

AND THE NIGHT SKY WOULD BECOME BLUE AGAIN

I Woke Up /// re-edited 2/2/2022 12:31PM



Granddad John James re-edited 10:05Pm 1/31/22

The Grapes (Lucious Grape/ August 31, 2005

TAKE YOUR PEN NOW AND SEE WHAT YOU WILL WRITE

You Taught Me...

Thank You For Being Your Own Treasure

How Hounds-tooth Became Her Friend

A Language You Can't Ignore.... re-edited 1/12/2022

They Say The Preying Mantis Is No Lady

You Can Oh Yes You Can (RE-EDITED 1/9/2021 12:07AM PST time and date stamped.)

HERSTORY...NOT A POEM BUT EXPERIENCE #ONE

I Saw A Star And Dared to Reach For It

The Invitation..( the message of .come as you are>>)

The Nature Of Water

THIS IS MY CORNER OF THE UNIVERSE, ENTER WITHIN

the wonder that always shall be...

Do You Gather Up Your Days The Way Others Collect Wild Butterflies?

The Man On The Red Bicycle (an ode) RE-EDITED 12/4/2021

Stray Cats and I have an understanding... 11/23/2021 copyright

If It Does Them Any Good At All 11/16/2021 date/time stamped

OUTSIDE-THE CROWS 11/14/2021

Still, More Time NOV 6 2021

The Wonder Cat

Little Bundle I Call Joy

AUGUST 1977 (IN THE REMEMBERING)

Wishing Them Onto Better Days

Seize This Day, The One You're With

Only Grief....

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Unknowing


Depression is a deep blue bowl
with old sour milk
in which the mouse nearly drowns
because he thinks only of how thirsty he is
and not how to climb out.

Sadness is that same blue bowl
with a wide crack
which is a means for the light to escape
and move on to a new place
the mouse,
doesn't even enter into the equation.
he's left the room to move on
and find his next piece of tasty cheese...
such is the difference between these two storylines.

The unknowing dream is a dream
in which there is a sticky thin sheet
so filmy I walk into it
and get caught.

I see Her
and find I cannot move on.

She's frail, precious and pale
a singular puff-cloud negotiating
a sky of darker clouds
wearing a sack-gown of daisy flannel

Sitting Indian-style
wide-eyed in front
of a box blaring inscrutable language
She's barely aware of me...
Hello isn't a word
which registers
until a new light enters into Her eyes.

But I  wait and I wait
and the gauzy film once thin
now grows opaque.

The incoming waves of Her thoughts
have cast me adrift off to sea...
She doesn't know me.

She is as Real As Flesh
to me
but I have no name
I am eclipsed
I have no address
for the Collapsed House
of All of Her Memory.


legal copyright for this poem
directly to the page
and also for this writer

Melissa A Howells
and also for this legally  copyrighted site title

Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
7:11am PST October 19th 2018.
9:56 PM final edit Friday October 19, 2018 PST





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