melissaahowells

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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

After Wide Sargasso Sea

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

Great Spirit

Shedding Your Skin

Liminality

NEEDING /KNEADING MORE (sometimes)

WHAT WILL YOU THINK GENTLE READER, AFTER YOU'VE FINISHED READING THIS?...We Are All Star Children

Not My Season

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THERE WILL BE MORE ...


************

I've heard:

the blister of pain
is not worth poking.

its made of old wounds
not like a new bride wearing blue
but like a widow
pulling weeds

if you lance a blister
it bleeds
scabs over
makes a scar that can last

I've outer skin
and inner alchemy
that doesn't heal
without leaving behind
a reminder of all
that's come before

is pain a wound
that finds us
one that too often reminds us
there will be more.



LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 6:24PM PST
5/5/2020 TIME/DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS
LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AUTHOR/WRITER/POET
MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD...

THANK YOU FOR READING. MAH





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