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ANOTHER REFRIGERATOR POEM 7/2/2022

A NOT-S0-SILLY ANTI-POETRY DITTY

In And In Between The Silence 6/21/2022

Not Alone In the Darkness (As I Once Thought I Was)

Miss Tilt-a-World@



Each One Of Them Is Accounted For (And Matters)

Like Books Full Of Stories Stacked Behind Her

Call It Grace (another Anti-poem)

Lights Out

Saudade: the feeling of wanting to be near someone who is far and distant

That No One But I Will Know (anti-poetry)

To Be In The Way

For My Brother T. J. ( 7/15/2022)

That Once Respite Cave

Dr. Frankenstein's Surprise (Re-Galvanized)

A Stranger In a Strange And Angry Land.

Crimson Lake (From 2008, flashing forward to 2022/April 19)

Words Being Yours...Until The Grave 4/23/2022

The Fire Once Within Goes Cold From Lack

Summer Storms / Electric Monsters

Your Candle Burning In the Wind

On Sunny Days , As I Pose For The Skies 3/17/2022

You Are Not What You Think 3/7/2022 11:56Pm PST

We'll Decide That For YOU

Fisherman's Woman's Lament

That Time Love Took Off Running On Its Achilles Heels....

VALENTINE--WITHOUT YOU 2/19/2022

His Bitter Chocolate Heart (refrigerator magnet poem)

THE HOOVER DAM/NEWLY RE-CONSTRUCTED 2/19/2022

Tender Love New And Quick...

I COULD BECOME SOME KIND OF LUCKY 2/19/2022

UN-THREAD THE NEEDLE (OF TIME)

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NEEDING /KNEADING MORE (sometimes)


she's been elusive
waylaid by weathering
certain storms
the snowfall of dreams
and the green squalls of the past
or
maybe,
the currents devised
by recent deluges of rain

fairness and fairer weather
don't loom-- yet
on my horizon

I've no coat
nor boots
nor steady guide
nor sure footing
my goat legs slip and wobble

only an unusual
persistence
prods me forward

where am I?
and this illusion
like a cliff I climb
but might fall from

its a journey
like high mountain peaks,
or balancing on a cloud,
struggling through buffalo grass,
scanning an endless ocean
for an island
or being lost on
in a storm on the moors

misadventure comes
when my scattering of clues
contained within my words
remain lost
misinterpretted through the filtering
of multiple misunderstandings

its easy to be intpretted
but more common
to be misconstrued

I need a destination
a home in my language
and description
its not a comfortable nest
I am not a prescription
written to meet another's need

WHERE is the echo of me
described so carefully
in purposefully chosen syllables...
are they dancing and tossed out there
somewhere
lost among the howling desert winds?



LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 7:31 JANUARY 3 2019
TIME/DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER
MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED
SITE TITLE:MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD

I think of writing poetry sometimes as making a recipe
or painting a canvas, the words and thoughts being the
paintbrush and the poem...the painting...as I perceive it.
Sometimes the artist wants the seer to see the idea
as it was formed in her mind...and not altered by
supposition or the airbrushing of other opinions...
see the difficulty in the creation, the expression
in the brush strokes, all the details and even the mistakes
and still come away with an appreciation of the whole of it.
I do not make a habit of explaining myself. I am not obtuse.
Contained within the minutia of the above poem are necessary
details...all of which are in every way the sum total of me.
As I say somewhere on my homepage....let the reader come and
figure you out, your poetry...and not substitute simply their
own interpretations. And it is all good and especially fine
to say your truth and find your own voice...I encourage you all.





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