meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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Some Children Have Nightmares (tentative title)

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

A Dog Should Have His Tail...

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Checking Out



Devious

Hope Is Sometimes The Best Of All You've Got (definition poem)

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Wake Wake Wake

It Is In The Rain

Dream Goblins Of The Night

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Weak In The Knees

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All Beings Considered

This Is It

Max on the max

I Long For Stars

Falling Leaf, Falling Man/Woman, Rising Star

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

Its About Waking In The Middle Of The Night And Having To Write It All Down

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

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Description In 140 Words, More or Less


Her words were ghosts.
No one heard her.
She spoke with her pen
and her eyes.
But if asked
and your parents?
She professed
orphan-ship,
though it was truly
a lie.
But one which never failed to entice
a satisfied smile.
Did it matter if
she didn't brush her teeth
or comb her tangled knotted hair?
If she wore clean underwear?
No, hers
was a much different kind of world.
One rarely ever observed,
because no one
even bothered to.
It wouldn't have required glasses
or a microscope
to figure out
what neglect looked like.
Still this child was mostly happy.
She had a vast repository
of ideas and her
imagination for company.
She could be free and ready
to be transported
to the nearest tesseract
or to nestle softly in a high caring cloud.
Her soul as comfortable as a
flannel gown.


Meloo/Melissa A. Howells Copyright March 2010





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