meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world


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o Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

o Some Children Have Nightmares (tentative title)

o Night Train

o Nameless

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



o All The Changing....

o HOME

o Lonesome Love

o two out of three people

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

o The Little Bird Said

o cat speech

o Funny, Not Funny

o All You Have To Do Is Breathe....

o Satire and Sarcasm...Before The Parade Passes You By

o Different

o A Dog Should Have His Tail...

o Enough to Clear The Clouds Away 4/13/2019

o Checking Out

o Devious

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

o Last Night

o Someone Send Out A Search Party

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

o Words

o Only The Choice To Be

o When People Go

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

o Wake Wake Wake

o It Is In The Rain

o Dream Goblins Of The Night

o Wake And Remember



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Aversion to Showers

I've an aversion to showers.
So why am I here?
In a place where all-season showers,
make it abundantly clear...
I'm an anomaly, un-analogous, out of place.
Most fish live their lives in water;
here, I'm an animal from outer space.
I don't own a life jacket,
have no ticket for the ark.
How did this happen?
Must've bought the wrong map,
missed the mark.
This has been a straight flight
into the eye of the storm.
Having arrived in the Land of the Odds,
weirdness is everywhere,
everybody living as they can.
Oh damn,
why didn't I stay in the bath,
stay in the tub...in the middle seam
of the Midwest?
There seasons differentiate.
There you know your bearings.
The landscape's flat, discernable,
non-returnable, well, a bit pedestrian
there people do not attempt to ingratiate.
So much easier to sort than this mess.
But I had to live differently. I had to leave.
Still constant showers just aren't me.
I'm partly sunny, partly cloudy,
a parentheses.
Full-blown misery, drowning in obscure history,
the math of this western loneliness,
the pouring down rain
is not me.
Multiplications of dull despair
pea soup fogs rivaling London air.
Showers and their constant ever-complaining buzz,
the over-abundance of growing moss
and the forgotten, obfuscating
fuzz
of it all.
2000 too many miles from home.

 

Copyright January 2012  All Rights Reserved By Author
Melissa A Howells   Meloo of Tilt-a-World





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