meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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No Addmittance/Doors Shut

Poem Untitled, But, If Not For You

The Un-Promised Land

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

(You're) Still Here



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

I Travel Every Time I Think Of You

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

Some Meaningful Proof For A Hopeful Dreamer's Eyes

Ramada

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

Beauty

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

the life and times of Medusa

I Talk To A Machine In My Darkness

A Man Called Tsuris

Tuesday afternoon in the jewelry box

All Beings Considered

Disappear

Woman Of A Certain Age

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Ramada



She was named "Ramada"
after the inn where her parents had slept
during the waning days of their
Las Vegas honeymoon.

It was a moniker more suited for a horse
and only served to remind her
of the inn.

Yet it afforded the vantage point of being
different
and much more.

Deliberately she wore mismatched clothes
in off-putting combinations of color and pattern.

She relished the notion that she could readily be mistaken
for a forgotten child,
perhaps even something as rich and rare
as an orphan.

Orphans had no obligations to anyone
other than themselves.
Her early gained independence from the age
of eight had been a very worthwhile pursuit.

More than anything,
Ramada preferred her own company,
yet even more so she desired the simple pleasures
of a drawing tablet, a good book
and her own imagination.

Her teachers may have called her bright
but Ramada knew better.
Bright was an adjective reserved solely
for light bulbs
not for people like her instructors,
who, at times,
could also be, like light bulbs,
quite dim.



legal Copyright May 31, 2016 7:07 AM PST
All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
Meloo (Ramada) Melissa A Howells Straight from her Tilt-a-World
all ideas, prose, poetry, rants are the expressed
legal property of this writer

thank you kindly for reading, says Ramada.....





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