tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35385402012-01-31T21:22:09.893-05:00Poetry about the vagaries of existence.Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.comBlogger1091100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-19418993008679476192012-01-31T21:15:00.001-05:002012-01-31T21:15:34.943-05:00

Super-realism pervades all essences.It’s the image sought for the Image’s sake. Tonight it isThe forgotten sentiment,Its ease in growing untilThe pressure vents.An impotent nostalgia buildsUntil the soul flares dangerously,Unable to shake the hopeless senseOf created alienation.Lost people sigh and the found ones crow.No other way to consider it tonight.The surreality of

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-57668331873236314682011-02-07T21:39:00.002-05:002011-10-10T20:42:32.905-04:00

Tending my own personal lotuslandwhere i can reposeand no one’s clamoringfor attentionand no one cares what i’m doing and no one knows if I’m crying or laughing or dancing or flying or making my own magic just for me not to save the world change anyone else look at a dead face and regret that i didn’t know them better not to look at anyone and say i need to know them better not

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-22073010313597064912010-05-09T08:18:00.002-04:002010-05-09T08:18:48.988-04:00

She always said you had to push a man and that’s why Dad was so good - from all she expected of him. She took credit where credit was due, I guess. He did so much for her, for all of us... He didn’t seem to mind, didn’t go off with his friends to drink or carouse. He took her fishing instead. I remember when he had a good job at a nuclear research lab way out in the country. He could fix

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-53650771384812628892009-06-16T21:26:00.003-04:002009-06-16T21:50:49.494-04:00

　1From where she stood,the shimmering bank appeareda green-gold plane;laughter’s dreamsong.Hedging the distance in her mind,she longed to lay upon rustling grasses.Sequestered by the reeling torrents,her heart ached.From within watery movements,beckoned the river nymph -whispering, I will deliver thee hence.She shied her doubtsand entered the swirling flow,grasped the laughing midge’sgray-green

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-51428864852085219472009-04-04T19:29:00.005-04:002009-04-04T19:41:36.867-04:00

Sitting in the pine strawstatue-still,black eyes glaringunder the watchful gazeof the bob-tailed cat,the baby waited its fate.To live or die by parents’ succoror the claw’s honed grip.The suspense was too muchso I scooped it up asit pecked my fingers instinctivelyand carried the ruffled bird insideto nestle in a shoe boxwith its sibling similarlygathered earlier in the day;fed buttermilk and

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-13599557833245165772008-08-30T09:55:00.004-04:002008-08-30T10:05:02.161-04:00

The wind that drove mefrom the cavern stopped blowing;a long intermission poised -drawing my eyes into regions wherelight had been filtered by jigsaw effectsof the surrounding trees.To see inside myself meanthalting the apparent gaze;meant arguing with the fractionated aspects -all gathered in committeeto decide who would deliverthe final product.As if I cared.It was all a sham -illusion and

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-27028166602441103702008-08-15T20:30:00.001-04:002008-08-15T20:34:42.499-04:00

I don’t have much to saythese days -just a few argumentswith myselfas to the natureof love and fear,prana and demons,light and shadow,and whetheryou can have onewithout the other;dualities mingling.Fragments personifiedto protest theverging consolidation.Does the vinekeep the fence intact -flower-hearts dripping?Mazes breathe their cantosinto the swirling mesh.There is a place withinmy heart

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-85776788803044368992008-06-24T19:39:00.002-04:002008-06-24T19:45:28.281-04:00

Birdsong serenade -pomegranate tea coolingon the veranda.The town quietly stirs.Early risers stroll alone;the mourning dove coos.Red-head woodpeckercircles the magnolia's trunkseeking breakfast grubs.Mockingbird evadesits child's incessant pursuit,pleading to be fed.A schnauzer pullingher master along the street;she wants those squirrels.On the picket fencea red cardinal perches -summing up the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-10876244961836213852008-06-03T19:10:00.003-04:002008-06-03T19:26:38.846-04:00

I came of age in a placewhere cattle and chickenseclipsed the human population;where green fields and fence postsmade a forceful horizontal statement.And though I chafed with desireto run beyond the pasture lands;the oaks and pines and birches,part of their peace had been plantedin my chest. Somehow,I felt this place was sacrosanct;would somehow always be the same,even though it had long been

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-5416274864680184442008-05-24T09:55:00.003-04:002008-05-24T10:12:09.465-04:00

in the slow progressionand small irritations of daily lifethe musty smellof lost opportunities permeatemy venial indulgencesdry as grass in a droughtprecious fantasiesand raucous hopesare shrivelingwaiting for time to spinthe wheel of happenstancewaiting for somethingextraordinarya growing desireto act on the urgeto fall intoan openinga bloominga canyon so vastas to lose myselffor the rest of my

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-52709165080060796032008-03-04T18:23:00.005-05:002008-03-04T18:32:12.669-05:00

---------------------------------------------------dancing atop akashic recordswe flow through timetwo psyches entangledplaying a divine songof yin and yangthrough untold lifetimesof storm and stressjoined by acontract signedwhen creation beganso here we arein this lifefacing off yet againpushed and pulledin a roundaboutwhat will we have learnedthis time will we runas we have done beforeor one

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-19900091591596377952008-02-27T19:51:00.002-05:002008-03-29T10:10:46.600-04:00

It's not where I'm goingor where I've been that mattersit's really more the here and now-ishthat can't be evadedmissteps can't be retakenthe holes ahead are lying in the darkI'm standing in the pure light of the momentstrung between a memory and a dreamwhatever I think I've learnedunravels as the day unfoldsfollowing the shadows before mebrings only knowledgeof my ignorance2006 MJS

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-10927771666768366152008-02-14T20:25:00.004-05:002008-02-14T20:34:01.919-05:00

The shift occurs suddenly,almost without warning;and the marrow stirs -awakened to the moment'spossibility, and possibly,the long-awaited.The permeable heart,soaking up the radiant swells,vibrating in the center of everything;is there now - hiddenbeneath the snow-covered bank.Knowing its time has arrived;pushing through layers,pressing against the inevitable -a joyful breaking.© 2008 Melissa

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-46839433436917363522008-02-07T21:48:00.000-05:002008-02-07T21:57:11.790-05:00

Off to my righta stained yellow discpinned to the blue-grey skystill high above the treessmall towns and citiesthis daily trekpushing against the othersaccelerating and brakingI watch the moonwaft before mebehind the cell towerabove the McDonald’sperched atop the gentlemen’s clubsthe car lots and warehousesits pale light disclosingthe homeless

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-58164329622239281512007-08-09T20:53:00.000-04:002007-08-09T20:58:05.839-04:00

perched on the bridgeof my nosea transitory stancea question put forwardstroll throughthe antique districtshop windows stagedwith dainty scenescast in exquisite Spode motifsfloral ballets across porcelainand ceramic tableauxenchanting butthe lust is missingthe roar of engines andtrains trombone and clatterthe sky dotted with birdsconcrete and asphaltfeverish in the midday sunsend miasmal waves

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-36550653253180735162007-06-16T10:53:00.000-04:002007-06-16T11:03:27.123-04:00

"It is such a secret place, the land of tears."~~Antoine de Saint-Exupéryliberation seems so closethe last wall of fearbeginning to crumblethe ego scramblingto rebuildrepairing the chinksas the crisis nearson the clearest morningthe sky suddenly curdledand dumped its yieldupon asphalt ribbonsstretched between places through placesarteries pumpingfrom the hubit is almost the sameas every other

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-67043209538557707752007-05-10T21:01:00.000-04:002007-05-10T21:11:19.022-04:00

"Sometimes the light’s all shining on me,Other times I can barely see.Lately, it occurs to mewhat a long strange trip it’s been"(J. Garcia)The stars pulsing in the deepening blue seaguided me through the configured life.The archer loosened his arrow, and tethered, I flew behind;assessing the hand which lent me sorrow - my mother’s yield;a saddened brood, talented yet insecure.Words and concepts (

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-62865753038912597672007-04-16T05:14:00.001-04:002011-08-08T22:05:05.015-04:00

“My words trickle down from a wound that I have no intention to heal...” ~~Paul Simon life is a series of stubbed toes the result of careless jesters hardened stances that melt under scrutiny small defiances the glare when someone demands to know fine tuning my sensitivities maintaining the vertical capacity an infinite number of collisions with positional obtrusions staring at the far

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1164507933848621322006-11-25T21:20:00.000-05:002006-11-25T21:26:24.116-05:00

Joyful escape across the marshesto a barrier island villageplace of spirituality and peacerespite for the soulrenewal for the senses solitary ease along the sidewalkindulgences of the purseseaglass chips smelling of rainmatte translucence ofcobalt emerald palest greenused bookstore poetrydreambook dayandnightsterling figures dangledancingwith moonandstarsoceanic

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1156987995759888492006-08-30T21:22:00.000-04:002006-08-30T21:35:56.453-04:00

Saturday morning at the Biltmore,early breakfast in the courtyard;the burbling fountain -soothing and incessant.Attractive waiterssolicitously refill my coffeeand orange juice after every sip.Saltilla-tiled patios,strategically placed orchids,and elevated palms(bird netting stretched across the openinga few stray feathers mutely screeching);the young men fussingwith the immaculate table

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1154566734825312332006-08-02T20:50:00.000-04:002006-08-02T20:58:54.830-04:00

The stem is bowed -the petals shriveled.All seems wastedand soon to dissolve.Yet deep inside; a spark composing -a fallow ground stayingfor the precedent of embryonic flowinginto primitive resurrection.A froth of wingsflutter against sweepingazure reaching acrossthe eye’s canvas.Its clement weepingenfolds the earth in transparency;stippling the landscape with moonstoneeffervescence.Hands part the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1150501830417451762006-06-16T19:41:00.000-04:002006-06-16T19:50:30.426-04:00

within a perfect silenceI heard the world around mea train’s distant clattera cricket rasping its legsthe television in the next roomthunder overhanging the roofdeeper in that silenceI heard a beauteous songa weightless voice meanderingthrough the whispers ofa lilted instrumentthe words too faintto unravelcatch a loose threadpull it towards medeepen the entrancementone day I heardconversations

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1142475322155763872006-03-15T21:09:00.000-05:002006-03-15T21:15:22.156-05:00

always someonesinging this time of dayto a sad soul guitar twanging‘bout someone donedone me wrong thangmournful as the mute skiestilt-heavy and oozingthe anguished utteringsdistilled from the sorrowflicking the windshieldwith a misty shudderon a day like thiswho needs an excuseto be sadlet the raindropsmingle with the tearsset free the tearsheld back too longlet them extinguishthe

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1133835850138252492005-12-05T21:15:00.000-05:002005-12-05T21:24:10.150-05:00

The path in front of me leading awayfrom the things I know, into an obscurityI can barely sense as I place one footin front of the other. Impetus unknown.Snared inside a transformation unfinished.Doesn’t seem as if I can hurry the process.I fear the darkness - but that’s all I can see.I felt the build up - a small anxietygnawing in the corner. My past splintered.My contingencies snug in my

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1132280916607102562005-11-17T21:20:00.000-05:002005-11-17T21:30:01.893-05:00

A brilliant pearltree-tangledlow in the skyexhaling a sigh of peace.Her white medicinewashes terra firma,filling every hollow withthe promise of ascension.© 2005 Melissa Songer

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1131072843797768762005-11-03T21:52:00.000-05:002005-11-03T21:54:03.810-05:00

I can’t get enough of this postcard sunset off to my right while rushingamid the others.Trying to shake off the day’s residue -juggled deadlinesand mixed messages;I’m wishing for a softer moment.Half the fireballgleams throughopenings in the scrub,live oaks and pines;the horizon swathed in pinkand violet.Half an eye straining for the peripheral flareas the sun disappears.Half a brainplanning

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1131070928190016802005-11-03T21:20:00.000-05:002005-11-03T21:22:08.200-05:00

Every day around four they come to stare at me; follow me around the houseexpectantly - as if to say - it’s time to go now.I know it, but always stretch it outanother hour or sountil they are in a frenzy - Rosie tossing her head like a filly and Rocky spinning - a polka-dotted dervish. They trip me up before I can even get to the door as they yank me into the street. The late afternoon sun

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1127387522369990792005-09-22T06:54:00.000-04:002005-10-14T20:14:22.786-04:00

A numinous kindling is rarely solacing or graceful - it is a marauder galloping with guns brandished, stampeding across familiar territories; frightening the indigenes as theyflee to the safety of their huts.Only to be driven out by the flames of the cleansing -wreathes of smoke driftingacross the range.It’s not as if the movementis a steady advance likea river journeying toward the ocean - the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1117977632047624772005-06-05T09:17:00.000-04:002005-10-14T20:15:04.463-04:00

Interminable unfurling, the empty husk still clingingto the temporal edifice; waiting for the liquid veins to congeal and extend, fanning out the papery hue-filled wings. The cobalt space gathersflorescence to explore, rainbows to belay.In the final hour of metamorphosis, the anticipation is sharpest, cutting through the remnants of our hopes, razors skimming across the rind’s outer layers.

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1115516339558311952005-05-07T21:30:00.000-04:002007-10-30T07:55:01.938-04:00

She always said you had to push a manand that’s why Dad was so good -from all she expected of him.She took credit wherecredit was due, I guess.He did so much for her,for all of us...He didn’t seem to mind,didn’t go off with his friendsto drink or carouse.He took her fishing instead.I remember whenhe had a good jobat a nuclear research labway out in the country.He could fix anythingfrom broken

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1115377392051672932005-05-06T07:02:00.000-04:002005-10-14T20:15:37.740-04:00

the ground is steadyit is I who wobblemy eyes aren't crossedand my tees aren't dottedbut I wonder how to movebeyond the silly thoughtand find the tiny spookwho stopped whisperingthe gathering mosshas surrounded meI'm far behind the gameI looked up and laughedat the shadowit was mine all attachedthough it tried to get awayI pointed at the landingwhere the ducks wentdown to playI saw a tall ship

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1113087083892464452005-04-09T18:48:00.000-04:002005-10-14T20:15:54.703-04:00

I could never name the wallthat burgeoned before methough I knew it intimatelyblindly fingering the roughened surfaceunable to penetrate its fissuresI could never see ithurtling towards me untilI found myself splattered acrossits blanched and merciless stonesbefore crumpling to the floorI named myself stupidand careless and undeservingfor daring to breathe happiness ina sheer moment of

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1111503647281047242005-03-22T10:00:00.001-05:002008-04-28T21:24:10.111-04:00

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1111361939564701552005-03-20T18:37:00.000-05:002005-10-14T20:16:11.993-04:00

Eyes in the sea;dual pinpoints flashingamongst the rolling waves.Tumbled feathers lollbeneath the cloud bundles -the wind forces itselfupon me.The remedy exquisitely crafted.A balm sweetly steeped;its fragrance curled across my lip.Smoldering upon the tongue;the dream gently ruffled.Partaken to the easethe emptiness.A piquancysharp and sweet,of what is seen and felt;of people whose livesslip by

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1110336276587342232005-03-08T21:41:00.000-05:002005-10-14T20:16:26.830-04:00

Though I've let go of many thingssometimes things won't let go of meand I find one day when I'm cruising alongwithout a sense of guilt or lonelinessthat the next millisecond brings meface to face with a part of my lifeI thought was long pastIt might be a former acquaintanceor an ex-spouse whoin some flip of fate reaches outto tweak my conscience or subtly twistmy arm by making an offerhard to

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1104277362869749482004-12-28T18:37:00.000-05:002006-08-02T21:11:57.820-04:00

Waiting to be revealed frombeneath half-forgotten fantasies;tangled in intriguing materialitypolitics and injusticeviolence and mayhem.The inner reality cries out -yet in my stubborn resolveto remain rooted,I ignore the pleadingsuntil they softenlike a child left weeping in dark.I tally all thatwas relinquished or lost -nature’s unrestrainedand capricious world hardened;its structure

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1099615210573319142004-11-04T19:34:00.000-05:002006-08-30T22:01:45.463-04:00

You are the stranger in my life,The one I hardly know after years.Your presence in bed itches me.Our limbs flail gently throughout the nightAs if carrying secret grievancesInto the country of our dreams.There are impassable chasms along the wayThat widen each time our eyesAccidentally meet.Our love is razor-edged with guilt -For deeds done and not done,For tears escaped into a tearless night.For

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1099614709717092912004-11-04T19:30:00.000-05:002006-08-30T22:03:16.513-04:00

The sun will rise soon.All night this dance in my head has kept me awake.Daylight waxes; distant songs come closer,The chill of April air envelops with a shock.I shudder on the concrete steps.Just what is this inane joy?This bliss trip you manufacture so periodically?The sweeps’ dipping and sprinting after insectsDoesn’t cause such euphoria in you normally.Is this some sort of intoxication?

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1098835087755524052004-10-26T19:54:00.000-04:002006-08-30T22:07:03.946-04:00

http://nocturne.blogspot.com

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1098545506447173752004-10-23T11:29:00.001-04:002008-02-14T20:38:12.397-05:00

The first brick was laid early onto project a base for thoseto come. And come they did -one after another in rowsstretching across our hearts;becoming a barrieragainst our love.Some I added onto yours,shoring up a barricadeof fear and hesitation;creating places to hidethe substance of who we were.The wall grew taller and deeperand wider - with fewer chinksfor us to whisper through.Finally, the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1098544901973350552004-10-23T11:18:00.001-04:002008-02-14T20:39:21.221-05:00

I have heard the splashof predatory diversfelt the shadows of blue heronsgliding overheadsaw leaves tremble whilethe brown wasp curled lowdarting across the white glareof the spangled sandI have been thrownagainst the walls of my doubtbattered by my own resistancericocheted inside my ego’s confineslanguished beneath a dim skybeen shaken by desire andcleansed in the flameI have taken a tumbling

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1093988942573536792004-08-31T17:46:00.001-04:002008-02-14T20:41:16.830-05:00

I’ve learned that thingsnever flow the way I want them;not through the sweet fog of reverieor by the anguish of restless desire.They always come unannounced,unbidden, and through secret corridors -at the point where I had relinquished hopeby failing to envision their eventualityRarely do I receive the asked for gift;the present is ever one degree beyondor is lagging behind its boundless potential

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1091325165951266952004-07-31T21:52:00.000-04:002004-07-31T21:52:45.950-04:00

Blue Moon

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1091325229766353902004-07-31T21:50:00.001-04:002008-03-14T18:25:03.005-04:00

Raindrops shimmeredupon a grassy hearthenclosed by blanched stones.Absorbed by the azure glowof midnight’s quaff, my feetsettled into the wet ground.A deep wish emanated throughlayers of repressed sighs -as I dreamed of moonbeams.© 2004 Melissa Songer

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1088352337517116952004-06-27T12:04:00.001-04:002008-03-14T18:25:41.598-04:00

A rough drift upon obliviontossed within cavernous longingsand wakened to a sky of billows;suspended breaths exhaled by the dawn.Days stretch on, forming a relentless highway;surrounded by spacious lands I cannot touch.Scripted to a solitary dance in brief motion,shuffling between here and now and then.Somewhere along the way, notions default,leaving me roadside-stranded with the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1085758914162775212004-05-28T11:40:00.001-04:002008-03-14T18:26:15.572-04:00

Once the crystal visions had leftI stood with sopping brow;contemplating my options -whether or not I was ready to ascend.I found I was still attached to life but not to all of it.I was left without dreams of attainment.So I look for inspiration in the physical world,beyond the faded remnantsof puerile hopes.Being has become dense again,although exquisite energiesstill tease my dull fleshripple

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1082209686828321282004-04-17T09:48:00.001-04:002008-03-14T18:27:35.278-04:00

Islam’s moon rocking in the blanching sky above the swamp -the mallard's intermittent scurry.Behind the cypress trees, the sun is cached and tints the horizon a tacit rose gold;dissolving into a washed-out hue.A subdued choir of cicadassing in alternating stanzasand the sparrow answers.The reality of mosquitosprances in erratic ambits,as small fish nudge the water’s surface.The diminishing return

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1082209291967542092004-04-17T09:41:00.001-04:002008-03-14T18:28:49.845-04:00

Forced to live in shallow soil,fed just enough to maintain;pruned and shaped and wiredinto a twisted habit, yetthe bonsai heart flourishes. The gardener waits with blade in hand,and a face that shows nothing but intent to shield the delicate budfrom any who would defame it.In the garden shines a lightwhere sun bleeds through shadeand laves the insular kernel.It dreams of the day whenroots

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1079575230685415322004-03-17T21:00:00.001-05:002008-03-14T18:32:39.185-04:00

Meager sliver of a moon glowing against violet and pink smudged skies,italicizes the fluid movementof the great blue heron sweeping past.Cold air nibbles coyly at my cheeks,and heeding the ospreys’ cries I watchas they hasten grandly overhead.The dogs on their leashes sniff and identifyrelinquished whiffs of other animals.On the horizon,silhouettes of massive pinesseem as real to me as they

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1075644649180562152004-02-01T09:10:00.001-05:002008-03-14T18:33:21.726-04:00

He chanted of storms purple rock sprays and sad summer petals. (she dreamed a wax-like moment) He chewed on splinters cursed the pebbles and wallowed in a lumpy bed. (she coddled her rainbows) He pummeled the essential wrung autumn tears from the brown trees . (she danced alone in the moonlight) He skated on thin ice always in danger of falling through to his truth. (she floated over the river)

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1075560289807809202004-01-31T09:44:00.001-05:002008-03-14T18:34:35.417-04:00

The odor of bruised herbs on my fingers mingling - rosemary and sweet basil. (where is the man of no intent) I wander along the garden path staring into the flickering light that frames this last hour of the day. (is there such an animal) The mockingbird sings the segue into evening’s deepening shades; its airs gently rustling - lifting. (lead me not into temptation) The tomato vine heavily

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1071799426574836792003-12-18T21:03:00.001-05:002008-03-14T18:36:31.458-04:00

In its magnificent solitudeafter eternity had passedthe eye of god inhaledand breathed out creation.A pinpoint beam becomesa supernova - shapes emerge;shadow against shadow.Stifling air conducts furtive music.Tangled inside my longing,swallowed by the gaping silence;unable to sense the formlessness -the massive emptiness.Nothing to contemplate exceptthe mind’s perception of nothingness.Lost to me

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1068251806789946312003-11-07T19:36:00.001-05:002008-03-25T20:18:10.533-04:00

Each second disintegrates just within grasp - etching a glyph upon the inner scenery.Slowly eroding dauntless complexities - the private myth implodes.What good regret?So easy to forget.The same deeds are repeatedand repeated.And we ache for the sweet days.Remembering long legs,hardened with glistening muscles;running across the beachheadof our hearts.The strands unravel;minutiae gather

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1066390984038742042003-10-17T07:43:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:19:16.265-04:00

In a corner of rumination,I could not see what was hidden bythe gloom. Swelling to an immensity of terror and shame, becoming a pit of wasted hope - a void of despair. Until the moment a voice spoke softly, ever gently, in my ear. Life is sweet it said. Suddenly I thought of orphans sortingthrough garbage for half-rotted food; mothers working 16 hours a day for a dollar or two, sewing the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1064966755300652142003-09-30T20:05:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:20:05.826-04:00

I forgot why I came here todayand so arrived with naught to give;except memory reflected in my eyesan excessive drumbeat in my chest,and a rapturous song of release.Life drips from my fingers -grabs images etched inside my lids,echoes the secret silent rush of temporal forces rising from deep cells;swirling into a melange of existence.Reveling in the physical touch,I know why we were given this

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1063542390708778272003-09-14T08:26:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:20:59.593-04:00

out of the murky seaonto illusive groundwithout refugefurtive as an insect seeking the recesses of jumbled rockthe midday sun unveilsthe jaggedness of a wizening oasisborn of frustrationlike a child confrontedwith intractabilitylooking forculminations that erode the beachhead perpetually lappingthe enduring sand© 2003 MJS

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1062286675763597962003-08-30T19:37:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:21:49.165-04:00

Death is a poem struggling to seize wordsrooted in the final imageof the heart’s eye.Life’s chime becomesa scattered vibrato,dripping down the page.Written as long as thought rodeover the plains;til it meltsinto the rainless sand.Those who findartifacts, dry as bones -full of the emptinessthat stretches between stars;will not fathomtheir meaning.They might seea diffused lightamong the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-1059832546729133362003-08-02T09:55:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:23:33.969-04:00

From the outside it seemed big enough;three stories of windows pasted on the grey clapboard gripping its sides,overlooking a ravine filled with dense growthof brambles - or was it a moat of teeth.Inside an eight by twelve roomworn linoleum of faded flowersrough table along one walla straw bed in the cornera wood stove and an icebox -that’s where I lived in a poverty self-inflicted, reflected,

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-941053152003-05-10T10:47:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:24:30.001-04:00

Eluded the watercolor remixof the daily show.And where are the smooth stonesthat once tumbled through my thought?I would hold one, seated heavily, solid in my hand.I would toss it past the green palmsfanning the sky.I would put my feet in the river;let the currents pull awaythe parts of me that have loosened -shreds of skin,teeth and bones.Instead I breathe into my heartto ease its pain.Let

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-938364982003-05-05T21:45:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:26:14.598-04:00

Not knowing I'm lost within the familiar terrain; masks look the same.Heels clip on brick paths winding through trees;the wisteria's nostalgic spice,sweetly lingering upon the soft air, brings an intermittent twitter.The magnolia's habit- Atlas of trees -bearing the weight of eternity,its low-slung branches thickened;waxy palms flared to shore up fallen hopes.The green swath flows around me.One

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-897096822003-02-25T08:37:00.001-05:002008-03-25T20:27:33.659-04:00

Tangled withina germinating prescience;skirting an oceanic rim.Beyond the encumbranceof temporal concerns,drawn by the wildness of the sea,its shoreline littered with thingstorn from their moorings - so shattered.Flitting along the edgelike a sandpiper, snatchingminnows washed aground.Running from the wavesthat would sweep me into dangerous currentsdragging me further out - and

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-891548742003-02-15T15:14:00.001-05:002008-03-25T20:28:08.216-04:00

Broken petals swirl upon the water’s frothing edge; curling into dreamsof paths long forgotten. Bare feet tamp red clay.The pines moan their vespers. Thin fingers reach toward visions of the past. Beyond the sky there are no gallant motions;only stars held in place by the wishes of children.The magic has fled -sprites swallowed by disconnected notions;lost in windy places.Liberation hovers with

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-860339202002-12-15T11:58:00.001-05:002008-03-25T20:32:15.580-04:00

Ushered into the darkness of corners,piled deeply with things forgotten;gathered for purposes hidden beneath the obscurity of dust.Saved for later,to become a burden of possibility;a reality parallel to the one lived -the should have beenof mushy intention.Yet another year has passedto lay with all the others;strewn across the travailed road.Waiting for the caress of memoryto resurrect the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-856428272002-12-07T11:42:00.001-05:002008-03-25T20:33:41.576-04:00

in the Void one sees nothingfeels nothing - hears nothingbecomes pure consciousnessbreath freezes in the eternalreanimation becomesan explosion of fire and iceamoeba shaped by a golden spiralthe contradictionof self and otherof beingness and nothingnessall fit within the cosmoslove unabashedly transmutesthe most sordid impulseinto refined inspirationprotocols of illuminationwould define what is

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-845563992002-11-14T21:44:00.001-05:002008-03-25T20:37:51.302-04:00

Heading off for a couple of days;to some business in North Carolina.I knew this journey would be less hazardous than the expeditions I had been on lately. Those whereseductions of the mind clamor, luring me from my path; pulling me closer to the unknown.You only have to talk to one really insane person to fathom the peril in that deep and lonely place.Scanning the scenery, savoring the visual

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-842834022002-11-09T13:09:00.001-05:002008-03-25T20:39:06.473-04:00

Last night while I slept, hope flew away -an abyssal breach was all that remained.Heart-cage flappinglike a wounded bird -warmed-over valor stuck in the pan.Submerged inside a skimpy grace.Suffering the cure -plunging inward.Hope is a prison -a bastard jailer;locked in place, too long stranded.To know liberation,risk beyond hope -live and love day to day.To truly dream,one must see beyond the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-842833082002-11-09T13:06:00.001-05:002008-03-25T20:39:49.943-04:00

I stood disbelieving and gazed at volcanic mounds;vast turtles squatting across the drab plain -scored in incrementsof epochs sculpted by weightless hands.Time was unuttered -the voices of otherssucked into the emptinessbesieging us.At my feet tiny stones were cobbledand murmured entreatiesto my avid heart, itsgrounding mantled ina mosaic of random ideas.Several jumped into my pocketand rattled

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-836866242002-10-28T18:27:00.001-05:002008-03-25T20:41:25.446-04:00

It started slowly,this dove-fluttering.Inspiring knotted tapestriesof jewel-tone reverie,while hearts leaned awryin ramshackle devotion. A bird within a cage,forgetting what it was struggling against;sweetly overpowered -the bars tangledin a jasmine vine.Wings shredded by the soft furor of a desperate retreat,pinched by a nooseof braided gossamer,indiscernible - almost.A flickering disguise,

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-836865392002-10-28T18:25:00.001-05:002008-03-25T20:41:53.966-04:00

Muffled thuds across wooden planks,suspended above the wetlands.Bulbous trunks of cypresssurrounded by knock-kneed tots.Whir of insects concealed in high limbs;floating upon sultry currents.Secretive eyes watch the intruderfrom rustling birch;and water’s idling murk.On the trunk of my car -a dragonfly, poised. © 2001 Melissa Songer

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-832750172002-10-20T22:06:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:42:28.831-04:00

Beyond all passion is a quiet place;The right place for you and me.We belong there, it’s our home.It’s a small wood-frame houseOverhung with white oaks And wild hickories,Reserved for the birds And their enticing songs.How we love to languish there,Beyond all tears and ashes of regret.We lie within the twofold doorsAnd watch the rolling lands stretch away.Hyphenated with fencesPunctuated with

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-832745512002-10-20T21:55:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:43:41.089-04:00

"We're all stumbling towards the light with varying degrees of grace at any given moment." Bo LozofWhen was love ever painless, free of expectation and fear?I’ll pass on what I felt, direct from the heart of a child.An overwhelming adoration - unconditional, pure, and simple;it damned near disassembled me. The memory of that flash of sheer love helpless raps on my shoulder - wrings me like a

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-826600602002-10-07T19:24:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:44:06.468-04:00

One evening while watching X-Files (it just had to be),I was feeling lazy and didn’t want to reach for the remote; so I thought (or did I) that the channel should just change by itself -you know, mind over matter, (here comes the kicker) it did.I became the remote control, the infrared eye moving moleculesthrough the energy field (now do you believe);the object responding to the mind’s intent.

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-826314512002-10-07T07:07:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:45:03.048-04:00

The bees humble the swaying stems of the radiant grasses. An agitated jay angrily denounces the injustice of being.Pinetrees glow in the morning sun, brushy limbs shimmering in infinitesimal movements of air.Sunflowers bob from the assault of black and yellow drones wearing their pollen chaps. In the dawning it all looks so different.What appeared irreparable in the dark now filled with luminous

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-825560082002-10-05T09:29:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:46:14.680-04:00

What of the shadowraising its shroud to come between her and the sun?Crawling in gloom,she finds the sequesteredand sees what fades in the light.What of the wordsjangled before her as if they were thekeys to the kingdom?She closes her earsas her heart speaksso loudly it rattlesthroughout the night.What of the boxesand barricades;the diminutive places where cowards hide?As spirit pervades

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-825559432002-10-05T09:26:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:47:15.536-04:00

The unfolding day brings forth flowers soft as the breath of mice;abrupt exhalations of pale bluesnuggled within the grass. Autumnal hues -vermillion and ochre;dabbed freehand into the scrub.I pause to watchthe surrender of leavesto the wind’s tugging,as they are heaved up in billowing whorls. First and last hintof the season passed.Invariably overdue,winter’s swindled timemarked only by this

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-823327782002-09-30T18:03:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:48:48.293-04:00

the first few dropswarned me to turn backbut the dogs were pullingexcited about their first walk in a weekI heard the remote boomssmelled the ozonebut continued onwardfirst chance to cut backslipped past even thoughmore drips were comingthe dogs kept surgingand I just followedit had been a wet day since morninga quick shower then a few tears tapped from an underground springflowing up through an

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-822885672002-09-29T20:08:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:50:24.767-04:00

In the pure high joy of the moment,I found the twiggy dance of oppositesblowing through the tall cypress treesand gliding across the mirrored ooze.I know I have no nameand quiver through the tepid day;roll on the carpet,bark at fleas,trace a line of hopebetween my knees.Tweedy sleeves envelop meand I regard the art nouveau of my toenails.I roll in the darkness of memory.I have no eyes -they have

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-822882142002-09-29T19:58:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:52:51.561-04:00

I wish we could have spent some time together -we could have comforted one anotherin our emptiness and parted, understanding that time is the thief that steals our happiness.I should have stayed and attended to the cypress treesswaying in the Autumn gusts - the mallard’s winged flap,the otter’s voluptuous submergence; listened to the birds’ entreaty - stay mired in what I was,instead of returning

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-819524532002-09-22T12:00:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:53:37.239-04:00

time creeps byas if fearful to disturb its participantsthe sun impels the skyto the place whereshadows hide beneath objectsembracing the darkgathering the flowinto a seamless handthe abundance of the momentcascades over and underand through the stillnessinto the marrow ofan ever-bubbling cauldronemanating each sliverof eternal nowas light drives out shadowso does night devour dayPersephone

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-819119012002-09-21T09:19:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:56:06.444-04:00

that night I was caught in a raintree showerdiminutive heart-shaped leavesin a downward fluttersticking to my windshieldas I drove up and down trailer trash lanelooking for the family I had driven 30 miles to findblank eyes stared from peerless windowstagging me as alien the wind rumoringfrom gate to gatesideways glancingdoors slammingdogs barking against their chainsthe moon flew with the

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-817004222002-09-16T21:35:00.001-04:002008-03-25T20:59:41.076-04:00

we could see the secret fire that lights us from withincould witness the neural nets pulsingwith signals from digit tips into the massive conglomerateback and forth activating the endocrine systemcells humming in concordance if we were transparentperhaps we would know andwe could feelthe electric flow insideand honor this brief forayof fundamental elementsinto life with reverencefor ourselves and

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-816115852002-09-14T20:21:00.001-04:002008-03-25T21:00:56.370-04:00

I remember looking atthe galaxies and seeingthe exquisite movementof meteors and starsswirling and sparkling in multi-colors;red/ yellow/ blue /white.Sunsets made my heart ache. Trees were somethingto climb, even live in.Sometimes I couldn’tdecide if I was awake,or if I was dreamingI was awake,or if I was dreaming I was dreamingI was awake,or if I was a butterflydreaming I was a little

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-815320372002-09-12T21:16:00.001-04:002008-03-25T21:01:42.233-04:00

We begin in the dark groping for luminosity.Perpetually longing to revert,eyes squinting at a radiancethat cannot be seen.Urging the unknowableto ascendto defy the edictof the secret coreof ourselves.Many few or oneit matters notsince as matterwe are subatomic equals.Slippery conceptsengulf and bend us to word and deed.We arefields of pure energyand the will is masterof all.© 2000 Melissa

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-813995682002-09-10T07:02:00.001-04:002008-03-25T21:02:34.545-04:00

Spring’s elaborate gown -its hem’s seductive flutteringstease the languorous airs.A thousand tonguessing delirious forest music;creek side burbles a joyous mythof sinuous rills and nymphshiding in the niches of rocks.The teller sits in cool shadowscast by the standing stone,contemplating gnarled handsfrom which prophesies are born -clouded eyes see inward.The fallen one rests on a daissurrounded

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-813323922002-09-08T20:20:00.001-04:002008-03-25T21:04:18.040-04:00

He had a rawness about him,(as if his godhood did not befit)and wrapped his flawsaround himself like a shroud.But I loved his radianceas much as his fall from grace.And though there was nothingI could make of my shreddedillusions, still I spun and spunand wove a tapestry out ofthe tattered remainsto shelter my heart.Between the first time and the last,I strived to obliterate the shadow projected;

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-810580662002-09-02T17:47:00.001-04:002008-03-25T21:05:27.025-04:00

There’s a placeinto which I sometimes fall and languish;until struggling, I lift my hand through humid muckand grasp the singular noteof lucid air.A concrete-like stasisgreedily attaches itself to me;and I wallow in it.For the time being,I write a book of chthonic verse where my legends thrive;lauding illusory efforts.Mystic love sidles in like fogcovering me in fluent kisses.Each startling

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-809677572002-08-31T16:37:00.001-04:002008-03-25T21:06:27.436-04:00

Like neon words in a small town overhung with phosphate dust,yellow and red glintsin the setting sun leave an iridescent smudge. A slow down on the wayto more exciting places,where poverty forgesa harsher edge against a skylineof glittering high rises;immaculately manicuredhands dig into pockets ofcybernetic gratification.Along the road -past fields of bent backswhose red-stained

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-804032232002-08-18T18:47:00.001-04:002008-04-28T21:17:48.873-04:00

my hands were emptyexcept for the steering wheel and I wondered what I’d left behindI looked around -the sky was broaderthe road stretched furtherthe air was brightertrees full of chirpingwinging limb to limbflitting twig to twigleft me far behind the wedding of lightand dark upon shameless grasses presumed whispersa feather rested on a wiretremulous - poisedsinging the song of the bird it

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-803662022002-08-17T15:56:00.001-04:002008-04-28T21:21:14.899-04:00

When I was fourI wanted a new perspective,so I lay beneath a wagon hitchto see what it looked likeas it hurtled toward my face.But the event was blurry at best -full of blood and screams and panic.I don’t remember a lotabout the aftermath.I never was in Kansas, Dorothy,although life was real and dusty;golden across its plains.Wheat heads glinted, full of chaff -and me sorting, ever sorting

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-799557652002-08-07T18:43:00.001-04:002008-04-28T21:21:46.671-04:00

A tree waits by the tennis courts for me to bring the bamboo mat, sit heavily beneath its oaken-ness,holding my breath for the prayed for moment.How long I wonder.How many days observing the wind riffle through the grass seed heads;watching the slow rise of the heronfrom the murky lake - watchingits leisured flight across the evening-stained sky.How long before the people who bring their

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-798865172002-08-06T07:25:00.001-04:002008-04-28T21:23:30.849-04:00

Taking a lingering review of the effects I’ve accumulated;memory-imbued. How I gathered them. How they failed in their task to bring comfort.Which should I keep?Where I’m going, there is no need for them.The recollection must suffice;of bird’s eye maple and blown glass -golden trinkets and hand painted ceramics.Until memory dies, too.I’ve let people go easily enough.Prized relationships that

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-797551622002-08-02T20:15:00.001-04:002008-05-22T21:17:04.365-04:00

Above the southern meadow rises the brown eye of sacred geometry;yellow petals fluttering.The centric emergencespirals like a snake chasingits own tail, and in capturing the prize, savors the devouring.A boundless motion -the act and the surrender;frees density from itsprison of matter;consumed by radiance -gathering the refugeesinto an embrace of the senses.Divine will and universal lovebow to

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-791725552002-07-19T21:36:00.001-04:002008-05-22T21:17:32.188-04:00

We all agreed we wanted those happy endings.Wanted them so bad we’d step on anyone else’s -relinquish families, jobs, commitments.Walk away into the technicolor horizon;disappearing like a hobo burrowing under an abutment.Waiting out the night.Waiting for the pink sky of new promises.It didn’t matter who cried behind us;we were singing the songs of our abandonment.We emptied ourselves of

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-785550122002-07-04T13:21:00.001-04:002008-05-22T21:17:58.169-04:00

the over-mind would knowwould not notice polaritythe neural bridge scintillatingwith glints of cellular communion light defines gestalt against a filtered shademelds to color emergent from the unknownbeaming its own lumination striving to subdue the shadowsand banish ambiguity from low in my spinethe light ascendseach turbine correspondentto its unique energyopening toevery sentient

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-780827252002-06-22T22:59:00.001-04:002008-05-22T21:18:27.418-04:00

Past caring how others judge meI have lately arrived at a place where scalpel must trace the delicate linethrough this onerous will and slash awaythat which is excessive and indistinct.It is not impeccable beauty being soughtbut quintessence of image placed beforethe consummate goal of desire and rage.Cosmetic surgery of the soul?An absence of, a nip and tuck, brain-liposuction;an elegant repose

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-780737212002-06-22T16:51:00.001-04:002008-05-22T21:19:04.675-04:00

The shaman told me my house was in orderand had a good feel. There were many windowsbut the curtains were closed and the mirrors were smalland there were places where no one was allowed;not even myself. In the north there is a demon chained,so long ago, I had almost forgotten he was there.In the parlor dwells the puritan, a revenant with altruist leanings - in service to humanity. Serious and

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-778656982002-06-17T19:41:00.001-04:002008-05-22T21:19:46.184-04:00

Packing up and shipping outwhen a shopper’s gust browses through - riffling papers and seeking small bargains.“Well, look at this, do you believe it!”You can have this obsessionfor pennies on the dollar -it’s a giveaway,even though it’s a bit threadbare.Oh, it’s still got some mileage yet,but I’m finished with it now.A collection of pretty paper fans,spread out fictions of self-deception;now

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-778217462002-06-16T18:58:00.001-04:002008-05-22T21:20:25.082-04:00

devolvingto the actualhas all this come from the center of meclasping in my handa discerning wandburrowing in the kernelof you and you and youand no one believes itthey think they know my mindbut how can you knowan ever-changing song even if you are the one singingonce i fled from from the dreams of my youthaccepting in my waythe path I’d laid outfor myselfthe nights were hotand the days were

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-777189632002-06-13T20:30:00.001-04:002008-05-22T21:21:01.893-04:00

All through the night he warblesas I set out for visions -lightening my being;drifting amidst the cumuli.He sings a wandering lyric,chiseling his tune upon my throatin an elegant rasp.The birdsong weaves a dreamlifting me above dissolving cirrus;raining upon myself.Prisoner of ecstacy -vagary writhing on the edgeof nothingness.Be still.There is no stigmata;though demonsgambol around my bed -and

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3538540.post-776701362002-06-12T17:38:00.001-04:002008-05-22T21:21:40.124-04:00

The expansionhas grown large enoughto pass through. No longerthe eye of a needle,no longer the camel;this infusion projected intoa lustrous gratitude -appearances and conceptsswept awayby the onslaught.I can’t point toan event and saythis was the roadI traveled -the pivotwhere surrendersmothered my ego;brought meto the virtue of chaos,lucid confusion,conclusive duality -filled my hands

Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05530140782266649082noreply@blogger.com0