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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Used to Think I Could Fix Them.


Used to think I could fix her.
Change the weeping of my Mother's heart.
Mend the break in my Mother's mind.
"Can you ever forgive me," she asked.
My Mother lay like crumpled paper
on her bedroom floor.
I carried her to her bed,
gently said "rest now."
Whispered: "let all cares cease."
My sad pronouncement of peace.
I sat and watched until she
tumbled into accordion slumber.
Rest now, Mother.
I can't fix you.
Don't know if I ever will or can.
Still I prayed the prayer of
the undelivered.
It must have been bad medicine.
The cure didn't take.
It was my mistake
to believe.
Used to think I could fix him.
Behave so he'd come home for supper.
Endure when he beat me and when he didn't.
Forgave him for his blackouts.
Still, I took the blame.
It was my call,
the one that lost him everything.
Voluntary treatment didn't save him.
But soon he declared his life transformed-
with the advent of Leo Bascaglia
and the mightier power of amends.
And amends to his Mother
became the carrot of his existence...
Yes, he was going to fix it,
his past, that is.
The day before we were to leave
to see her
his Mother died.
Another prayer
for the undelivered.
I held my Father close.
Though I never knew him well,
I could never let a stranger cry.
After the funeral
he went back to the bottle.
Yes, it was my mistake to believe.
Used to think I could fix them.

Legal Copyright March 5 for this work by this author
, 2010 All Rights Reserved By this Author
Melissa A. Howells  and also legal copyright for this site
Meloo straight from her Tilt-a-World





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