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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Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years



On
a certain day
in May
I might remember you.
I'll be drenched
in the sentimentality of it.
A flower will sprout from each
blue grey tear
I leak.
Then promptly withering to
brown,
will die
at my small gnarled feet.
Unlike the century plant
which lives and thrives but blooms
but once a hundred years.
None of my blooms, so precious,
made of tears, in torrents.





Legal Copyright January 17 2013/ 10:11am PST
 All Legal Copyrights Reserved By This Author
Melissa A Howells //Meloo Straight from her Tilt-a-World

COPYRIGHT FOR THIS WORK, FOR THIS SITE TITLE BY THIS AUTHOR





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