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The Inner String

The Hoping

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Some Children Have Nightmares (tentative title)

Night Train


wandering the rolling hills ...(written for his model)

All The Changing....


Lonesome Love

two out of three people

A Start Again...(I Green-Dreamed Again Last Night)

The Little Bird Said

cat speech

Funny, Not Funny

All You Have To Do Is Breathe....


A Dog Should Have His Tail...

Enough to Clear The Clouds Away 4/13/2019

Checking Out


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

Last Night

Someone Send Out A Search Party

Crows...writing exercise in honor of April /National Poetry month


Only The Choice To Be

When People Go

The Day You Left (Words From A Half-Remembered Dream)

Wake Wake Wake

It Is In The Rain

Dream Goblins Of The Night

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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
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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