melissaahowells

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OUTER SHELL

The Stars Go Out

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

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

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

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

Marinate On This

Sharp Sticks For The Cinderella's

Someone Send Out A Search Party

Odd Things, Odd Thing.....

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

Mister Misbegotten.

The Legacy List

WE SHARE... march 2021 poetry

This Firestorm Of Dying Lights..

The Threshold To The Other World...(March 2021/Feb 2021)

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

February 11, 2012 / Today The Storm...

MOLECULES

No Broom Could Chase Me.

Self-Improvementizing....(yes, I made up a new word)

Big Is No Little Adjective. (revised)

Taking Up Alley Living

YOU DO NOT GROW OLD

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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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