melissaahowells

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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

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)

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THE CRYPT OF THE KEPT AND THE KEEPER


the skies
for all their November blue-brilliance
are poised for
rain

they cry for all of yesterday's
remembrances

and I am my brother's keeper
and I am my Mother's pretended friend
and my Father's lost soul

who are you
in all of this
blue-brilliance
this sky show
of last leaves
and ruby glow
so scarlet
they remind me of blood
and the ties which no longer tie

November is the month
where memory goes to die
and wither
and fall to the ground
waiting for winter winds to sweep
them all around

we who have slumbered through
this year that never was
a parade of ghosts
and lack of showing
where is everyone and everything going

to the dusk
and to the dust
and to the shroud
what are these shadow words
we scream aloud
full of voice
but meaning
almost nothing.


legal copyright for this poem 1:33pm PST time and date stamped
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and also for this writer/author Melissa A. Howells
and also for this Legally Copyrighted and Registered Site Title
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD





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