meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

(A Prayer of Intercession--Brief Joy)

Upwards Into The Swirling Sea Of White.

Tuesday afternoon in the jewelry box

What If



Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

the slave is freed

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

All Beings Considered

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

Max on the max

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

A Man Called Tsuris

For The Loss Of A Ghost Like You

Love A Cat

Fragile Shell Of Morning

I Long For Stars

I Feel Fine(r)

The Crow Is A Songbird

Sometimes Love Comes With Electricity

And With Words I Let Them Go

When He Returns From The Road

Flashes, Glimpses, Moments, Time

the brand of disappointment

Boy Restored

Please Don't Bring Me Flowers

No Woman's Friend

Ramada

Sometimes I Hear Him

the life and times of Medusa

why not ask the cat?

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All Beings Considered


I hear His bark,
a desperate yelp for an owner that never seems to come.
Rain drenches the pavement,
pouring rain doesn't drench the sound of His barking,
pouring rain makes His barking more desperate.
Man oh Man, where are you?
Dog nose cannot sense Man.
Dog eyes cannot read, cannot tell the time.
Dog who lives in this moment and the next.
Can He reason Himself out of His panic?
Dog, though He be a smart "boy," a trained "boy,"
is very human (in deed)...
Craves familiar intonations, needs the reassurance
of a hand, needs to bury His nose, His heart
in the smell of safety.
Dog, you are "human" to me,
a "human" with four legs and a tail.
I am sending you a message.
Relax Dog, be safe boy, be loved boy.
I am here with You in my mind waiting,
while You wait anxiously in the rain.
I hear the Russians sent dogs into space in the beginning.
Human lives were not expendable.
I imagine:
Dog in spaceship looking down at the Earth,
head tilted...
(what is Earth?)
No understanding of why He is alone,
hungry, hurtling through space.
I know this dog was thinking:
"This is not a ride home in the car,"
For every dog has His thoughts.
But now, Dog, I no longer hear your barking.
I trust You are finally home, dry.
With your tail held high, You wag in sincere greeting.
If You were mine, I would hold You close,
bury my nose in Your Rain-Dog Wetness.
Whisper in Your long ears:
"I am glad You are my Dog."
You would know how much I mean it.



Written October 30 2011 // All Rights Reserved By The Author
Written directly from my mind onto the paper.

Melissa A Howells///  Meloo of Tilt-a-World


This poem is for Daisy, Bootsy, Perky, Curly, Supuk, Bounce, Clough, Bear and all dogs out there,
from the beginning of time into infinity...because each and every dog deserves to be loved
and to have his or her day, month, year, life.

To the critic who couldn't "embrace" this poem...and gave it a POOR rating...
you are entitled to your opinion; however, since you gave no reasons nor any
constructive criticism, I am inclined to dismiss your opinion entirely. That is my
perogative, and we are going to have to disagree to disagree. You are in the
distinct minority in disliking this poem, as well.





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