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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I Would Be Happy, Yes I Would


I would be happy to be a bird
a sparrow
whenever I see
the brown mottled fellow
I can not help but smile
maybe its way of moving
flitting around
it seems so cheerful
affirming life

I would be happy to be a tree
in a deep forest
in the protected lands
at the beginning of time
a fragrant red giant reaching my arms
towards heaven

I would be happy to be a stream
rushing on to feel
the flowing itch of pebbles and rocks
as I polish and wear their uneven edges down
wind my way to create wider rivers, gorges
rage on forward to meet
the salted spew of the sea

I would be happy to be a hypnotic cloud
a pendulous dream in the wishful blue deep
sacred as hours
calibrating moments as silence speaks
wordless nameless floating
with a sigh

a small dark voice whispers
words of hating:

aren't we all
formed once then dissipated?
then one-time happy,
eventually next-time changed.
soon enough swallowed whole
with the passing of time...
chasing what we once were only
in dreams and nightmares.

Into every happiness, a bit of darkness tries
to enter in.


Copyright 5/13/105 All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
Meloo/Melissa A Howells Straight from her Tilt-a-World
Written straight to the page in the afternoon at The Belmont.





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