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Ramada

Preferring The Stars. (After College)

So Glad I Met You

MOLECULES

WE SHARE... march 2021 poetry



The Threshold To The Other World...(March 2021/Feb 2021)

February 11, 2012 / Today The Storm...

Only Yesterday (For T.J..)

WHAT CHIRPLESS CRICKETS MAY PREDICT (IN HORROR MOVIES--DREAM POEM)

The Differences

No Broom Could Chase Me.

Self-Improvementizing....(yes, I made up a new word)

The Off Brand

Out On The Street

Taking Up Alley Living

Big Is No Little Adjective. (revised)

Liminality

YOU DO NOT GROW OLD

I Came From Water

Every One of Us Has a Door....

The House Is Alive

THEY NAMED ME ENOUGH

THE CRYPT OF THE KEPT AND THE KEEPER

UNDECIDED

THE MILES THAT ARE LEFT TO GO...

To Them, I am Dead, I am Dead

I Need To Fly

Burying the Dark

Knock, Then Come Through

Being Ourselves...

Like The Wind In The Middle Of The Night

Uncovered

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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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