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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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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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