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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

More Poetry >>

Come And Visit Me

You visit the grave of grief
often.
You wear it like a badge,
like an open wound, oozing.
You do this mostly when you are
alone. Or walking high on God's mountains.
Your heart is locked, your lips,
pursed. You would share your secrets
with strangers. You have made me a stranger.
(Let's not go through life as strangers...)
I haven't decided quite how this feels,
but a bit of rancor has rooted
and I'd like to tear the weed of it out.
I understand how you have had to do without.
But you could have more, for...
We are related. But you keep
it distant. Miles and stubbornness
block the road.
Somewhere in the world I have a sister.
But she is not any sister I have known.
What are you afraid of?
There are no bad emotions.
Emotions simply exist.
I cannot make you comfortable.
There are no reassurances. Life is changeable.
You've had hard shocks, but life can, too, have bliss.
I can be here. I can listen. I can take your anger,
your sadness, your rage against circumstances, and even more than this
I care about you, and its not only based in
biology. I know.
We had the same Father.
We were meant to be sisters.
I have never had a real sister before.
Couldn't we try it on? See if it works? Please.
Leave the grave of grief long enough to come and visit me.



Copyright August 27, 2012  All Rights Reserved By Author
Melissa A Howells Meloo from her Tilt-a-World







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