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The Future I'm Caught Up In...5/11/2021

There Might Be A God In His Heaven---If He'd Bring You Back from Your Hell..

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

I Long For Stars

Wild and Unraveling



Love A Cat

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

Max on the max

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE

Ramada

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

All Beings Considered

A Man Called Tsuris

Great Spirit

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

A Long Long Time Ago

Sharp Sticks For The Cinderella's

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

Broken Things Are Beautiful

It No Longer Surprises Me...

OFTEN I'VE WONDERED AS I LISTENED TO TRAINS

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

MOLECULES

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

After Wide Sargasso Sea

This Firestorm Of Dying Lights..

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

Odd Things, Odd Thing.....

Kikipurr (For Our Boy/Girl Cats)

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

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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 all
and why there's so much room....

I know when
Death takes ,
He leaves others behind--
we're the little candle flames
the Greatest Darkness cannot yet vanquish
nor yet put out

I believe that everything has
its source of  light
and each of us fights
to maintain to the last breath...

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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