melissaahowells


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o The Petty Player Who Rarely Sleeps

o I'd Like A Taste (The Wolf Said)

o The Crow Is A Black Bird

o When I Start to Bloom

o I'd Like To Be Your Shirt (when you wake up in the morning)



o All Beings Considered

o Words Between Edward And Jane

o Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

o The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

o After Wide Sargasso Sea ( For Those of You Readers Who Have Empathy For the First Mrs. Rochester.)

o WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

o Wild and Unraveling

o What Must Be

o These Hands Exist July 4 2023 rei-edited 7/12/2023

o I Am The Color Of Black

o The Tide of Your Lies (2019-2023)

o How I Wanted Your Pearls 6/24/2023 WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE

o Love Wants What Love Wants re-edited 5/31/023

o Winter's Been Too Long.... 4/18/2023 (LONGING)

o The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

o Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

o This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

o At Night, As I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

o And You Will Be Called Ashes As You Leave ( from a dream)

o Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

o Someone Send Out A Search Party

o THE FAN , AT NIGHT, GIVES GOOD ADVICE completely re-edited, an entirely different poem

o What Is The Price For Your Touch? re-editied 5/31/2023

o Where Is My Bed With The Pleasing Tree -Lined View(NOW REEDITED)

o Oh What Fine Physics (Before Me ,Lies) re-edtited @4/17/2023

o If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

o THE COMPANY THAT WE KEEP WITH THE ONE WITHIN



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This Here Agate- Hunting Place

Young eyes search.
Small hands sift.
Intent upon seeking red diamonds
trapped amongst the drift.
Gleaming ruby pebbles
polished like the scales of a fish...
some as large as knuckles,
others only blinking sequins...
Go find as many as you wish.
Knees pock-marked with gravel,
looking like rocks themselves.
Remember the red back of your neck,
how he called you burnished elves?
Remember his tall, steady shadow?
Remember his muddy pointing stick?
And the St Croix River sighing,
the no-see-ums buzzing by your ears
mean, fast and thick.
Dirty water stained your keds
as the barges washed the waves
to and fro...
With Grandpa bent-kneed,
digging right beside you, down below.
When you tugged upon his shorts,
a wide smile split apart his face,
Saying ain't this a sliver of heaven,
this here agate-hunting place?

Meloo/Melissa A. Howells Copyright 2010, but written and re-written over a period of time
For Grandpa Thompson, a fine gentleman and a best friend.





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