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

Enough to Clear The Clouds Away 4/13/2019

Devious

Checking Out

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home



Someone Send Out A Search Party

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

Words

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

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

If I Could Be The Sky...

It Feels Better To Be Unfinished (Wish-Unspoken, But With My Eyes)

More Poetry >>

Optional Feature

I come to work
to answer the telephone-
sun shining in my lilting voice.
Greeting the clients, the boss
with a mile-wide smile...
I nod. I glow. High-beams on profile.
Concentrate. Somewhat Insanely Controlled.
Visualize a Giant Toothsome Jack-o-Lantern Grin.
Radiate without.
Nearly burning out my bulb within.
Return home to
face the woman in the mirror.
Reassess and remember where she has been...
stack up all impressions,
toss them into the recycling bin.
Unscrew the hinge,
open the cabinet door,
deposit the smile
(do not forget the tarnish remover)
into the plastic container
marked in brown "optional feature."
After all, it is a
smile like all the others,
exactly like the one from the day before.
Reach for another container marked in pink "frowns."
Gently, readjust my chin and forehead,
feel the slack in my jaw,
feel my face settle down,
feel my shoulder settle in.
Flip the flexible mental switch
and the weight falls off...
the mind, unhitches,
the tickle feathers release as I cough,
perhaps I even laugh.
Then listening closely to soft pulsing music,
slowly, somberly
the notes persuade me, woo me to dance.
I bend, (without concentration) I sway,
I free-form like its my last chance.
Finally for the first time,
from my insides to my out,
 I am, I will be
 H A P P Y.




All Rights Reserved By Author  October 25 2011

Melissa A Howells Meloo of Tilt-a-World
coming straight to you from The Land of Odds








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