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The Loving Art

I Long For Stars

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

The Stars Go Out


WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

After Wide Sargasso Sea

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

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

Great Spirit

I Came From Water

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


Broken Things Are Beautiful

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

Sharp Sticks For The Cinderella's

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

It No Longer Surprises Me...


Odd Things, Odd Thing.....

The Magical Closet( re-edited for clarity of metaphor)

The Legacy List

WE SHARE... march 2021 poetry

This Firestorm Of Dying Lights..

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I Came From Water

If I am the sum
of those I came from in my past
where did I begin
and how much longer
will I recycle
until I join the stars
at last

I think I have a clue
I came from

whenever it rains
I smell the air
and feel cleansed
whenever I spy the ocean
or a lake
I'm distracted and

I think I might have had gills or fins
or maybe breathed under water
I could have been Poseidon's
prodigal daughter
or a long-ago denizen
of some far-lost island

I prefer pearls to gems
I'm mesmerized
by waves that coax and swell
turquoise and blue-purples and greens
are colors which please me above
all others

floating is effortless
I'm as buoyant as
a boat that never founders

I focus in on
the hush-crashing sounds of waves
as if they were my internal compass

combing the shifting shoreline
for driftwood, shells, polished sea-glass
and sun stones
is an un-ending preoccupation
of soulful solace

in the evening
as I sift off to dreams
where the sands from beaches
are counted
instead of sheep
the sea sends me to bed
as she rocks the land in my head--
so satisfied I slip my moorings
and my ship's sails set off to sleep....

legal copyright for this poem 2:01PM PST time/date stamped
and also for this poet/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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