meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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Laughing Maid

TO BE AN ANGEL...

Some Women/Some Woman

The Knowledge...

Time Does Not Recognize Me



I'm A Slug

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

I Talk To A Machine In My Darkness

I Long For Stars

And Even Stars Die

Crowded Out

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

All Beings Considered

Storms

what makes a monster (sympathy for the monster)

Max on the max

why We celebrate the losers

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

The Times Have Come Back Of Great Want And Lack, This Is The New Great Depression

The Light Goes On In The Attic (WeAll Have Addictons)

Little Water Bug ( learning the lesson of true pain)

Hope You Enjoyed The Eclipse While It Lasted

Written For My Father Who Isn't Here To Know

I Feel Fine(r)

And With Words I Let Them Go

Used to Think I Could Fix Them.

Sometimes Love Comes With Electricity

Into The Swirling Sea Of White.

Boy Restored

Life's A Candle

Malla Batsick

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All Beings Considered


I hear His bark,
a desperate yelp for an owner that never seems to come.
Rain drenches the pavement,
pouring rain doesn't drench the sound of His barking,
pouring rain makes His barking more desperate.
Man oh Man, where are you?
Dog nose cannot sense Man.
Dog eyes cannot read, cannot tell the time.
Dog who lives in this moment and the next.
Can He reason Himself out of His panic?
Dog, though He be a smart "boy," a trained "boy,"
is very human (in deed)...
Craves familiar intonations, needs the reassurance
of a hand, needs to bury His nose, His heart
in the smell of safety.
Dog, you are "human" to me,
a "human" with four legs and a tail.
I am sending You a message.
Relax Dog, be safe boy, be loved boy.
I am here with You in my mind waiting,
while You wait anxiously in the rain.
I hear the Russians sent dogs into space in the beginning.
Human lives were not expendable.
I imagine:
Dog in spaceship looking down at the Earth,
head tilted...
(what is Earth?)
No understanding of why He is alone,
hungry, hurtling through space.
I know this dog was thinking:
"This is not a ride home in the car,"
For every dog has His thoughts.
But now, Dog, I no longer hear Your barking.
I trust You are finally home, dry.
With Your tail held high, You wag in sincere greeting.
If You were mine, I would hold You close,
bury my nose in Your Rain-Dog Wetness.
Whisper in Your long ears:
"I am glad You are my Dog."
You would know how much I mean it.



Written October 30 2011 // All Rights Reserved By The Author
Written directly from my mind onto the paper.

Melissa A Howells///  Meloo of Tilt-a-World


This poem is for Daisy, Bootsy, Perky, Curly, Supuk, Bounce, Clough, Bear and all dogs out there,
from the beginning of time into infinity...because each and every dog deserves to be loved
and to have his or her day, month, year, life.

To the critic who couldn't "embrace" this poem...and gave it a POOR rating...
you are entitled to your opinion; however, since you gave no reasons nor any
constructive criticism, I am inclined to dismiss your opinion entirely. That is my
perogative, and we are going to have to disagree to disagree. You are in the
distinct minority in disliking this poem, as well.





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