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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cornucopia  (of the unrefined) mind


commit to write
just a few short words
smatter them across the pages

sentences so loud

perhaps they are wailing
flailing their meanings

the punctuation calling attention
to itself
like a spoiled kind of brat

I must be heard
but who is hearing me

we must listen to
ourselves
when others don't

good to  be
the girl
with unusual persistence
I insist on persistently puttering along
my words may never be read
be a solo kind of song
that only echos in the forest of my mind

life indeed can be unkind
(good times/bad times/all times get over)
unkind times malinger/do they
at times

it (life) does not favor success on many
the omelets made of nest eggs
are aplenty...(really...I think not)
still

I have lived for today
and write what I may
though no ears no eyes nor hearts
perceive my words

all my bon mots
will have to be apropos enough for moi
and sentences are best expressed
better not to remain oppressed

for the repressed of us have been far too many

locked minds are not the kind
I'd call refined but reluctantly curved and bent
(by whom is the controversy)

the right key to find is in your own latch
unlock true creativity and make yourself hatch

inside find the yolk,
the cornucopia
of the unrefined mind.


Copyright October 15 2012
All Rights Reserved by this Author
Melissa A Howells
Meloo from her Tilt-a-World.





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