melissaahowells

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Little Man Orange--My Mister Peanut Butter Trout

Wisdom of the Infinite

THE STITCH IN THE TELEPHONE WIRES

The Differences

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall



I Turn Forward

The Storm

Prairie Town Progress

Beyond Door Number Three

The Make-Up of Molecules

I Will Return

Marinate On This

A Smattering Of Mattering (How Do You Matter)

Threading Myself Through The River Called Night

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

from the tomb of three days sleeping

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

Lemonade Days and Rhubarb Pies

Life Among Clouds

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

A Man Of The Clouds

The Cruel In The World (Blue Bag Metaphor)

Somtimes in Surrender

Encounter Before Dawn

Shedding Your Skin

Liminality

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Not My  Season


can I write something simple
filled with ease
and not the malaise
or saccharine happiness
of the season

to not be joyful
seems a paltry charge
to be made the case for high treason

I will claim my innocence
instead
and keep quietus--
renew my vows
not participate
in the merry riot-ness
of the too near and maddening crowds

already I sing aloud
in the shower--
and its not caroling
but vocables and blues
the music I choose

like all my other choices
I live my life to please me
I'll  make no joyful noise
but gladly make a compromise
to declare peace
and a silent night.

Legal copyright for this poem 3:46 PM PST time/date stamped
and also for this poet Melissa A. Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World





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