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All My Friends Are Dead, It Seems....

The Better Poem

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

For Boiled Eggs and Mountains

I Long For Stars



All Beings Considered

Max on the max

A Man Called Tsuris

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

Love A Cat

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE

After Wide Sargasso Sea

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

Ramada

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

The Off Brand

The Last Shall be Trace-less 5/25/2021

Wild and Unraveling

The Future I'm Caught Up In...RE-EDITED 5/22/2021

IN THE WILDERNESS CALLED YOU

Crimson Crush (Re-edited and Mispellings Corrected 6/11/2021)

The Thing You Move Out Of Your Way (writing exercise) 5/22/2021

Beware When The White Night Calls // re-edited 5/25/2020

BUYING LIES 5/22/2021

Great Spirit

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

A Long Long Time Ago

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

Broken Things Are Beautiful

It No Longer Surprises Me...

OFTEN I'VE WONDERED AS I LISTENED TO TRAINS

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Crimson Crush (Re-edited and Mispellings Corrected 6/11/2021)


hushed
in the shadows
darkness hides all
but the stars  and me

the silence is lush
a velvet carpet
choosing me
and hiding me
beneath its bent shoulders

enveloped in
Its supple fingers
a soft breeze
nibbles the nape of my neck
then travels
nuzzling shivers
down my spine

I'm up a tree
cat-like and kneading my claws
feeling the last crush
of Indian Summer's last heat

balanced
on leafless branches
swaying to the wailing whine
of the rising wind

I test the night
with my flaring nostrils
and the flick of a tongue
smiling and satisfied within

I've a toothy grin
and an appetite for
someone

glowing my amber eyes
shine on their own
paired with the slash
of my gorgeous red grin

a quick lick of my limber tongue
removes the smudge of my last meal

arching my back
rising and  finding the dipper
and the Hunter's star
leaping into the cool void
my nostrils flare
lifting up
the warm pulsing smell of warmed blood

some mortals shift restlessly
with the dust
some mortals sleep
as if entombedI
I impale with a thrust
of my kiss
and stare into
the weightlessness
of their failing eyes

giving up
their last heaving breath
I pull  the final thread

my approach is simple:
I practice
no clever lines
nor have regrets

I catch them
as they dream me
I claim the nightmare
which is
their death.





legal copyright for this poem 7:15PM PST 6/9/2021 time and 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

*** re-edited mispellings and for clarity and precision of image
June 11, 2021 2:47 AM PST time and date stamped.





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