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Some Children Have Nightmares (tentative title)

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

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

Wake And Remember

Unwelcomed Like So Much Unfinished Business

In March (Finally, Spring 2016)

All For Algernon

Weak In The Knees

The Finisher's Song

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

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
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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