melissaahowells

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Appetites

Entanglements

THE TIDE CALLED LONELINESS

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

The Smile Which Eludes @



He Says To Me, I Think Too Much (and hence dream too much as well)

I'd Like To Be Your Shirt (when you wake up in the morning)

Words Between Edward And Jane

When You Learn Who You Really Are And What Is...

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

It No Longer Surprises Me...

My Grey Haired Love...La La Lullaby , La La Lullaby My Love

You Do As You Please 8/17/2005 found poem, readjusted 6/20/22

Anti-Poem Number Three 8/2/2022 Or, A Poem Your Proper Mother Wouldn't Write

Breathing On My Own

A Girl Is More Than a Beautiful Box re-edited 10:15pm PST 1/31/22

I LOVE YOU ALWAYS ANYWAY AND INSTEAD

Talk To Me In The Dark 7/8/2022

ANOTHER REFRIGERATOR POEM 7/2/2022

A NOT-S0-SILLY ANTI-POETRY DITTY

In And In Between The Silence 6/21/2022

Not Alone In the Darkness (As I Once Thought I Was)

Each One Of Them Is Accounted For (And Matters)

The Fire Once Within Goes Cold From Lack

Like Books Full Of Stories Stacked Behind Her

Call It Grace (another Anti-poem)

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

Lights Out

Saudade: the feeling of wanting to be near someone who is far and distant

That No One But I Will Know (anti-poetry)

To Be In The Way

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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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