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


what I had was not much
a bike that clanked when I rode

but it had a blue straw basket
for traveling

my mother, my father, my brothers
noticed me only when there was a problem
I was a problem
my feelings were

so when I would disappear
temporarily
it didn't matter much

the bags I packed were essential
only to me
flashlight, TP, pbj sandwich, thermos of milky coffee
sleeping bag, OFF, latest book, drawing pad,
pens, lined paper,
a knife, a tomato to slice, a pre-buttered muffin

they all fit in my pack
and tied to the basket

made up a story
I got good at that
'going to a friends'
then took off pedaling
to the south side of town

camped by the Red River
scared like the Dickens
fell asleep exhausted
and slept almost til noon

no watch to tell the time
but the sun was high
and then I'd rise
and stretch
feeling the damp ease from my body

often I'd yell my Tarzan scream
no one but the birds to hear me
this is the part that cheered me
and then it wasn't so hard
to be eight years old


Yes, this is a true story..mine
from younger days long ago...one that I will always remember..
I was good at temporarily running away...and no one ever cared or knew.


LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 12;40 PM PST TIME/DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER/POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR
THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD





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