melissaahowells

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Broken Things Are Beautiful

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

Little Bundle I Call Joy

the wonder that always shall be...

Have You Ever... (DECEMBER 4/2021)



Still, More Time NOV 6 2021

OUTSIDE-THE CROWS 11/14/2021

If It Does Them Any Good At All 11/16/2021 date/time stamped

Stray Cats and I have an understanding... 11/23/2021 copyright

Cat's Speach

Wishing Them Onto Better Days

Seize This Day, The One You're With

Only Grief....

OUTER SHELL

The Stars Go Out

Soothe (re-edited 1:40Pm 8/17/21 for clarity for me as a five year old)

early wake-up conversations...before the coffee's poured

Only The Lonely.... (its not about what you may think...)

And The Next, And The Next..... (written directly to page, will return later for edits)

My Truth Is Out There (re-edited for clarity of thought and image later)

The Better Poem

Crimson Crush (Re-edited and Mispellings Corrected 6/11/2021)

The Last Shall be Trace-less 5/25/2021

Beware When The White Night Calls // re-edited 5/25/2020

BUYING LIES 5/22/2021

The Future I'm Caught Up In...RE-EDITED 5/22/2021

IN THE WILDERNESS CALLED YOU

Cool Pea-Green New Leaves....(Imaginarium)

Sharp Sticks For The Cinderella's

Someone Send Out A Search Party

It No Longer Surprises Me...

Odd Things, Odd Thing.....

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Burying the Dark


ONCE
I was young and smaller
wading in my thoughts
down by the river
the water waited then
shimmering in the light

I
a young woman with corn silk hair
and eyes so blue
the sky envied her
and bluebirds stared

back then
water was my refuge
flowing currents were my release
down by the river,
the clouds forgive

by the river its
a time to forget how
I wanted to leave
the earth quietly--
it was not so long ago

here,
I found my heart even
and much quieter

then,
my high pale cheeks altered
my fierce face framed in fright

the two-tone wing tip shoes turn in mid-air,
pink laces flying backwards
and somehow caught,
suspended high in the wind
while my right arm cast itself backwards
to fend and defend....

the woods across the road
beckoned
like the deer I was
I ran
my thinness couldn't save me
but anger, perhaps,
could
so I flew
and struck backwards

years later in the dark
the white panel van still glistens
its heat rising in the glaring sun

his dull dirty uniform reeks
and the dark blur of horn-rimmed glasses
hovering above my freckled nose while
his fixed blank black eyes bored in

how do I catch myself...
but I must try and
dare...
with my own frail flailing arms fluttering
backwards...
yet, still, somehow
forgetting now
how hard it's been to learn to breathe.


LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 3:40AM PST TIME/DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD





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