melissaahowells

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Broken Things Are Beautiful

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

Sharp Sticks For The Cinderella's

A Long Long Time Ago

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home



I Long For Stars

It No Longer Surprises Me...

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

All Beings Considered

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE

OFTEN I'VE WONDERED AS I LISTENED TO TRAINS

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

My Heart Knows.....(TO THOSE WHOSE HEARTS LIVE IN SPRING)

I REMEMBER THIS DAY AS IF IT HAD BEEN RECORDED IN A BOOK

Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

After Wide Sargasso Sea

This Firestorm Of Dying Lights..

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

A Man Called Tsuris

Max on the max

Odd Things, Odd Thing.....

Love A Cat

Kikipurr (For Our Boy/Girl Cats)

Don't Breathe 3/17/2021 12:21 AM PST

Great Spirit

I'm Out Of My Dreams 3/12/2021...the pain-body and dreams

The Legacy List

(MELISSA'S) ALL---TRUE---ISMS....3/3/2021 4:51 pm PACIFIC STANDARD TIME

Wisdom of the Infinite

21st Century Proverbs...more will be added, you wait and read...

Ramada

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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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