melissaahowells

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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

No Broom Could Chase Me.

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A Long Long Time Ago


that Spring of 30 years ago
I'd been reduced to eating crusts
pulled from pizza boxes
in hallway bathrooms

that Spring
my insides tried to force themselves
outside
and a man whose hand swallowed both of my own
saved me

I felt the pull of a long fat wide straw
from my throat
as I awoke cotton-balled in artificial sleep
with a throat parched as the sand-polished Gobi
by the infamous Gibli

the right side of my abdomen
a split over-ripe prune plum
bulging and stitched
a blip-ping chorus of monitors
serenading me

the masked faces had kind eyes
but touched me with gloved hands
and a passing cleaning women hissed
and made the sign of the evil eye at the door

the parade of visitor came:

my Grandparents both wringing hands
my Grandmother glancing away so quickly
I couldn't catch her eyes
Grandpa giving me the usual talk of
bootstraps and buggies and the old farmer's
multi-finger hand shake

a yuppie boyfriend arriving after work
to spray me with words
I barely heard

a male admirer who showered me
with small Gund animals
a Woozle, a Zebra a Giraffe
all deposited in my hospital-gowned lap
his stale un-washed breathe punctuating
the stagnant sterilized air

my blond friend
wearing a smile and my old dress
and kissing me on the forehead

the giant doctor I saw through
as a shimmering mirage
he filled the doorway and shimmied sideways
his deep baritone voice explaining
you'll have to stay longer
the word "peritonitis" lingering
and falling like blown-dandelions in the air

and I
a flicker of thin light
a lighthouse beam searching
for land and safe-passage
through painful waves
and storm-rocked seas..
having lost my anchor
near the bottom of my ocean
for what seemed to be yesterday
but
was actually, a long long time ago

where did I go?

LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 3:26pm PST 4/5/2021 TIME AND DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER. POETTESS MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD

AND THIS IS LITERALLY STRAIGHT FROM MY TILT-A-WORLD
OF OVER THIRTY YEARS AGO.











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