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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** FOUR o'clock shadow **


listen, if you can

this is a math equation
a real story problem
which I cannot solve/resolve

the oranges and apples
have become peaches lemons olives and kangaroos
I no longer keep the solution
nor have the means to get to it in my mind

so long/good-bye

some days I feel high above my shoulders
and cannot begin to find my head
have you ever thought about death?

the bell's tolling

do you worry who you might find
when you think?

sometimes I reach for my head
wishing to wrench it off

I hide in plain sight to keep
other's eyes from
seeing who I am and am not

I have become something else at times
to avoid others' scoffs

I feel chipped away as paint
with all their borrowing
of me
I have to separate
myself
its all this rushing in like
waves

I tire of the sea

ever feel you were drowning?

would I be better off cloistered
like a nun?
ranting my prayers towards heaven
heave them up to God?
having them ignored for their total sum?

am I braver than other girls?

prayer is becoming a peculiar
unworkable preoccupation
am I unheard, cast off
unfit or odd?

thought and prayer
cast the false martyrdom
of my torn grey dress

might the Lord cheat and give me
all my answers so that nothing would I gain
but duress

do the angels dancing on a pin
all leap and turn away?

its four in the morning
outside the birds have begun to sing
if I could sleep days on end, entombed
it'd be a far more pleasant thing

I am who I am, but sometimes
I'm just not enough for me

past the expiration date of
my history

feeling a pressure:
a need to be on top, in tune,
ahead, aware, on guard and have all my
ducklings dabbling in a row

all to make some better kind of show

unhappy
my nerves are snapping
the humors are drawn out
needle thin

while stubbornness
drags me up
and down
and up
again


Poetry by Meloo/Melissa A Howells
This Author Retains ALL legal rights to ideas and written work on Tilt-a-World
Copyright June 16, 2014










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