melissaahowells

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I Long For Stars

TAKE YOUR PEN NOW AND SEE WHAT YOU WILL WRITE

I'd Like To Be Your Shirt (when you wake up in the morning)

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

The Wonder Cat



You Taught Me...

Thank You For Being Your Own Treasure

The Man On The Red Bicycle (an ode) RE-EDITED 12/4/2021

Threading Myself Through The River Called Night

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

The Off Brand

They Say The Preying Mantis Is No Lady

Great Big Waterproof World

HERSTORY...NOT A POEM BUT EXPERIENCE #ONE

A Language You Can't Ignore.... re-edited 1/12/2022

How Hounds-tooth Became Her Friend

You Can Oh Yes You Can (RE-EDITED 1/9/2021 12:07AM PST time and date stamped.)

The Invitation..( the message of .come as you are>>)

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

The Nature Of Water

I Saw A Star And Dared to Reach For It

THIS IS MY CORNER OF THE UNIVERSE, ENTER WITHIN

Do You Gather Up Your Days The Way Others Collect Wild Butterflies?

Tender Love New And Quick...

The House Is Alive

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE

Broken Things Are Beautiful

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

Little Bundle I Call Joy

the wonder that always shall be...

Have You Ever... (DECEMBER 4/2021)

Still, More Time NOV 6 2021

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the wonder that always shall be...


december is colder
for those who are alone
its darker
and the light wanes
nose pressed to the pane
don't you wonder
who those strangers are
seated around the table
firefly lights altering their faces
the flushing rosy -cheeked grin
of mutual admiration
all around
best all american family
making luxury of what they've got
which is each other

is there a memory
locked in my vault
a snapshot recalled
a silliness and sharing
somewhere to be internally reviewed
I could make do with those pictures

where do and did they go
forts in the snow
the singing zing of pucks on a board
a small Eskimos reward
the wild ride screaming ride down the hill
and the belief in temporary flight
and what might come tonight
under the tree
while the pinging of angels on bells
lilts and hangs in the air
child's eyes a opioid over-glazed stare
to think that a fat man eats the cookies
and delivers something for nothing
just because you are you

would a surprise polaroid do
the vision indellible
of the real jolly fat fellow
and the pawing of hooves
on the rooftop too

it must be diamonds or stars
glazing over the windows and ice
it must be the smells baking in the oven
the smell of fresh pine
that stolen piece of magic
the divinity will do

where do those christmases
go in their bright paper and bows
and the singing of carols
where your mother adores and cajoles
you to sing along with her too

what is this curiousity
this implausible long-lost city
gone from me
go
and remove
to

do I want to come back to you
revisit you
the ghost that is christmases past
come back to roost and subdue
the child that I was
the child that still is
the wonder that alwasy shall be.

and the words of my Grandfather
who is gonna love you like I do?

legal copyright for this poem 12/12/2021 5:19pm
and also for this writer  melissa a. howells and also for this
legally copyrighted and registered site title.
thank you for reading on my momentary lapse to the past.






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