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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

OUTER SHELL



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

IN THE WILDERNESS CALLED YOU

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...

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE

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
water

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

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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