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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The Unedited Life  (She says what she means to say...)


Write a poem
and make it pretty.
It shouldn't be too hard
putting one word in front of
another.
(But oh, what a bother.)
Yes, its...
Just like walking a straight line
right across the page.
You might become the poetess of the age?
Then again you might not.
(Niceness is not a guarantee.)
Nor is laughter.


Hey! That's it!
Say what you say
but not what you mean.
Keeping it nice
doesn't mean that its clean
or that its honest.
Cluttering up the conversation
with clumsy clanking claptrap
You're talking to be clever
but that's not where its at.
Or is it for some?


I spent way too many years and words
being just like that.
Until I met him,
my friend, my truth.
Wish I'd met him in my youth.
But then there wouldn't be a story,
now, would there be?


I soon learned all about honesty...
and that it was foremost the best policy.
So, I became a policy maker,
instead of a being nicety-nice
word under-taker.
I felt less lonely
learning how to be me.
In the past I'd done myself
way differently
and couldn't keep my words
and my past straight:
I had thought people didn't want to
know the real me.
(Or they simply couldn't relate.)
But honesty did.


"We are all just as sick as our secrets,"
He said.
"And we live sometimes by our
bootstraps, but its better than
being led
by the nose."
"If you want to live fully,
live within your heart, not just within your head."


So I no longer write pretty poems...
because they aren't me.
And I write and say pretty words only
when they are what I mean,
and I mean them.
And I feel them.

Good-bye, good luck pretty-pretty.
God speed you on your lonely quest...

And I'm feeling much better now.

And I am so much better

and better off

than I ever was.



Copyright May 25 2012
Melissa A Howells All rights are definitely reserved by this Author.
Meloo from her Tilt-a-World





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