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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After Wide Sargasso Sea


And is it like me...
this dark inner paradise
and is it like me
these rising tides
and crashing waves
the seas-a-rolling
and is it like me
these inner darkening clouds
and is it like me
this tempest
this anvil-shaped heart
this inner insistence growing...

I have been
tossed high up into the mountains
hidden deep dark down in the gloom and the green
I am the moss and the moldering
I am the loss and the feigned innocence now
from a time when power was cruel
and decays with the graves and the dust
I am the ashes and the damp-blood clay
trampled beneath bared feet
I am the fading light of my failed reflection
Why am I Not
this money-tempted man's rued distraction?

high in the cardboard rooms
cloistered as a nun
the sun now lost to me
only the flames of the candles burn
the sun not even a memory to me

author/poet retains all legal copyright for this poem/work
5:33pm PST April 8 2020 time/date stamped
and also for this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
by this poet/author Melissa A. Howells

I am for the Underdog, the Lost, the Unrequited and Forgotten.
Written after a third and thorough reading of Jean Rhy's timeless
classic Wide Sargasso Sea...a reworking of Jane Eyre and the deemed less-
than-heroic of Heroines, Antoinette, AKA by her Mother's name Bertha.





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