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Some Will

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Please Don't Bring Me Flowers

No Woman's Friend

Sometimes I Hear Him

What If

Sometimes Love Comes With Electricity

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

I Long For Stars

Every Time I Listen To the Wind.

Some People

She Is My Friend

Beware The Sign of Sagittarius

Need You (note of encouragement to self)

The Un-Promised Land

I Travel Every Time I Think Of You

Poem Untitled, But, If Not For You

If I Were Your Island....

(You're) Still Here

I Know Most Who I Am When You Are In The Room

From The Desert

As Sick As My Secrets

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

Then The Little Silver Fish Came

I Keep My Ray Bans Handy

Upwards Into The Swirling Sea Of White.

He's There

Oh, Now, The Pink Moon

And Even Stars Die

You Are Not My Audience, I Just Borrowed You For Awhile

why not ask the cat?

Odd Thoughts and Juxtapositions

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Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

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
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


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