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No One--I Know Who I Am

At My Gnarled Feet 7/27/2021

Burning The Trees Into Ghosts

Here, After?

Only The Lonely.... (its not about what you may think...)



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

Broken Things Are Beautiful

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

Sharp Sticks For The Cinderella's

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

It No Longer Surprises Me...

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE

Odd Things, Odd Thing.....

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

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

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

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

I Long For Stars

February 11, 2012 / Today The Storm...

MOLECULES

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


I write this
for those who are gone
before their time
the happy 92 year-old husband
who was planning a surprise for their 60th anniversary
the forty-five year old father
who spent the holiday with his family
and then died the next week
and for the child who wanted to be
an astronaut and a gymnast and a mommy

I write this
for those whose grief
drenches the earth
yet still hope
for a field of daisies

I write this
for those shut in
and needing fresh air
and the lungs to breath it

I write this for my memories
sweet ghosts of not yet one year ago
you're my comfort, my confidantes
who remind me
the days of future
are not passed

I write this for the faces
the spaces
I long to hold and touch
but must suffice with lucid dreams
and the night-tears of remembering

It seems at times
I am all wet
and this has been the longest winter
of my mind
shut in yet wide awake
dreaming the emotions
of those who en masse are dying
of those who are weeping

and how they cannot be replaced
the old who've earned their
rest, respect and reprieve
and the young who had fewer miles
between them and a clock
that was broken
when it still should chime

time and sunrises
and sunsets
and the soft moments of the day
will never erase them

away-away
we will be walking
where they walked
for a long long time after
and how we'll marvel over
who they were
how they lived
their simplest deeds

impermanence is
now branded indelible
within the shrines of our hearts

I see them here
still
long after their
shadows ceased to create
the necessary gathering of electrical
impulses etched upon my brain
their absence is the wane and the  wail
and not in the lack of input
but within the great tsunami
of our grief.  


LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 2:05AM PACIFIC STANDARD TIME
MARCH 2, 2021 TIME/DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS
LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE-MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD...





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