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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********

inside this cell
(where I live)
I type away
inside this little cave
(my heart)
and there are many more like me--
of my kind
in equal cells and caves
who scribble or type
and pound away
on little clicking keys
punch on clacking plastic making words
sentences for ourselves to read
and trying to make sense of it all--

but who will read us
who will care
this is not even a page
it cannot be burnt
nor is it indellible

all words fade away as I age
I've seen those living in little cells
I've witness words pouring from caves
streaming out from fading eyes
crumbling pie-crust dreams

the unspoken hopes of sputtered-out youth
the long agos of what could have been

what is now
within this little cell
inside my tiny cave
and in
the smaller places where I dwell

the large pains I share with the few
I manage to hold onto now
I do my best to share
using clicking keys
to write brief sentences
which could never contain within them
an entire life

how does it come to this
this smallness
this meanness
this estimation of one's life?

********

LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM WRITTEN FROM THE HEART DIRECTLY TO THE KEYS
7:52 pm  PACIFIC STANDARD TIME--TIME AND DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS
FADING POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALL COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE
IF IT DOES ANY GOOD AT ALL...ONE MORE CHECK IN FROM
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD

edits 11:26AM PST 9/13/2019 I think this will make much more sense
to those who previously did not understand.





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