melissaahowells

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The Petty Player Who Rarely Sleeps

I'd Like A Taste (The Wolf Said)

The Crow Is A Black Bird

When I Start to Bloom

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



All Beings Considered

Words Between Edward And Jane

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

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

After Wide Sargasso Sea ( For Those of You Readers Who Have Empathy For the First Mrs. Rochester.)

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

Wild and Unraveling

What Must Be

These Hands Exist July 4 2023 rei-edited 7/12/2023

I Am The Color Of Black

The Tide of Your Lies (2019-2023)

How I Wanted Your Pearls 6/24/2023 WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE

Love Wants What Love Wants re-edited 5/31/023

Winter's Been Too Long.... 4/18/2023 (LONGING)

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

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

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

At Night, As I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

And You Will Be Called Ashes As You Leave ( from a dream)

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

Someone Send Out A Search Party

THE FAN , AT NIGHT, GIVES GOOD ADVICE completely re-edited, an entirely different poem

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

Where Is My Bed With The Pleasing Tree -Lined View(NOW REEDITED)

Oh What Fine Physics (Before Me ,Lies) re-edtited @4/17/2023

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

THE COMPANY THAT WE KEEP WITH THE ONE WITHIN

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Description In 140 Words, More or Less


Her words were ghosts.
No one heard her.
She spoke with her pen
and her eyes.
But if asked
and your parents?
She professed
orphan-ship,
though it was truly
a lie.
But one which never failed to entice
a satisfied smile.
Did it matter if
she didn't brush her teeth
or comb her tangled knotted hair?
If she wore clean underwear?
No, hers
was a much different kind of world.
One rarely ever observed,
because no one
even bothered to.
It wouldn't have required glasses
or a microscope
to figure out
what neglect looked like.
Still this child was mostly happy.
She had a vast repository
of ideas and her
imagination for company.
She could be free and ready
to be transported
to the nearest tesseract
or to nestle softly in a high caring cloud.
Her soul as comfortable as a
flannel gown.


Meloo/Melissa A. Howells Copyright March 2010





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