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Preferring The Stars. (After College)

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

All Beings Considered

I Long For Stars

So Glad I Met You



A Man Called Tsuris

MOLECULES

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

WE SHARE... (FOR MY FRIEND FROM HUNGARY)

FOR MY NEW HUNGARIAN FRIEND ACROSS THE WORLD

A Sentient Question (for my Hungarian Friend)

February 11, 2012 / Today The Storm...

This Firestorm Of Dying Lights..

Only Yesterday (For T.J..)

WHAT CHIRPLESS CRICKETS MAY PREDICT (IN HORROR MOVIES--DREAM POEM)

Max on the max

Ramada

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

After Wide Sargasso Sea

The Differences

No Broom Could Chase Me.

Great Spirit

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

The Off Brand

Out On The Street

Taking Up Alley Living

Big Is No Little Adjective. (revised)

Liminality

YOU DO NOT GROW OLD

I Came From Water

Every One of Us Has a Door....

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

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This Firestorm Of Dying Lights..


I've been told I'm sensitive
there's nothing wrong with that

maybe I lose more sleep than others do
maybe I think too much
maybe I see more than eyes should see

I have a kind of second sight
and feel within my bones and skin
my emotions communicate across the prairies
of my face
I have lines I've earned
though I've a younger face

I cannot be
but who I am
I see in my own way

I'm no mute witness
to this current world-wide
tragedy
death doesn't make strangers
into statistics
I view this differently

I see Death as electricity sparking
a light bursting and then a small
flurry like waning Roman Candle Light
each time someone, some being leaves
unplanned
they create sky-tapestries

shouldn't we all make a dramatic brief show
a final sign that we were here
we're all called to go
yet
I don't quite understand
where the Ferryman takes us there

I know when
Death takes he leaves others behind
we're the little candle flames
the Greatest Darkness cannot yet vanquish
not hide

I believe that everything has
its source of  light

each tree, each blade of grass,
each animal, each molecule
each person
singularly bleeds
a spark of embers
when it leaves

and its flame burns out
and the world turns in on itself
and then reluctantly shudders
as it turns yet another page


what must the earth feel now
being this eternal cataclysm of change?
 
this flickering of fireworks
isn't numbers nor  calculations
nor headline statistics
on the evening news....

the numbers
link to other breathing numbers
the hundreds-thousand- millions
uncounted
left behind on the Earthly plain

aren't you wondering,
I'm wondering
about this firestorm of dying lights

tall of hose who we made final calls out
but could not say our good-byes...
as we held on to them tightly
within our grieving hearts
but not within our enfolding arms




LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE
2/22/2021 11:41 AM PACIFIC STANDARD TIME/DATE-TIME STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED REGISTERED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD.








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