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The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

CHRONICLER OF DREAMS

YET ANOTHER ANTI-POETRY POEM ( re-edited 11/2/2022)

You Do As You Please 8/17/2005 found poem, readjusted 6/20/22

HERE WE SIT AT OUR TABLE 2/19/2022



Much Better Than This ( A Conversation With The Universe)

The Straight Story (What Happens When The Writer Inserts You Into Her Story)

THE TIDE CALLED LONELINESS

A Girl Always Leaning Forward Looking for A Breeze

Entanglements

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

Appetites

How I Still Love You

The Smile Which Eludes @

He Says To Me, I Think Too Much (and hence dream too much as well)

When You Learn Who You Really Are And What Is...

Anti-Poem Number Three 8/2/2022 Or, A Poem Your Proper Mother Wouldn't Write

Breathing On My Own

A Girl Is More Than a Beautiful Box re-edited 10:15pm PST 1/31/22

I LOVE YOU ALWAYS ANYWAY AND INSTEAD

Talk To Me In The Dark 7/8/2022

ANOTHER REFRIGERATOR POEM 7/2/2022

A NOT-S0-SILLY ANTI-POETRY DITTY

In And In Between The Silence 6/21/2022

Not Alone In the Darkness (As I Once Thought I Was)

Miss Tilt-a-World@

Each One Of Them Is Accounted For (And Matters)

Like Books Full Of Stories Stacked Behind Her

Call It Grace (another Anti-poem)

Lights Out

Saudade: the feeling of wanting to be near someone who is far and distant

That No One But I Will Know (anti-poetry)

More Poetry >>

 
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What Is The Price For  Your Touch? re-editied 5/31/2023


*********************************************************

your hands so warm
are made for touching
the palms and
the fingertips
affect me as if I were
melting butter

your hands sit folded in front of you
poised to touch
but not touching
and then are tucked away
into the deep pockets of your baggy pants

if I were bread dough
I'd rise to meet them
becoming so malleable
the breadth of your supple longer fingers
would need/knead me into deep sighs

men think their power
comes from words and size and dominance
but their power comes from their hands
and their choices to be gentle

I long for the stippling of your finger tips
weaving across my protruding collarbone
then traveling down my neck
where they linger as
your kisses would

please,
why
is there a price
for your touch?

not being touched
is a thought
I tell myself
I can't bear
but I do
as my insides crumble in

why does distance have to become
so wide and cavernous
so that you are unreachable

I'm treading the waters near your shore
there are rocks and eddies
and sneaker waves lashing the shoreline
threatenning to pull
me down under

it makes me wonder
what is your price
and why
haven't I already paid it,
if I'm priceless
precious
a THING of beauty
(your words, not mine)
then, why is it so much
for the price for your touch?


******************************************

LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 1/25/2022 1:11PM PST AND ALSO FOR THIS POET
MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD.....

******************************************
LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS RE-EDITED POEM 5/31/2023
AUTHOR POET WRITER MELISSA a. hOWELLSRESERVES ALL RIGHTS@





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