meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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cornucopia  (of the unrefined) mind


commit to write
just a few short words
smatter them across the pages

sentences so loud

perhaps they are wailing
flailing their meanings

the punctuation calling attention
to itself
like a spoiled kind of brat

I must be heard
but who is hearing me

we must listen to
ourselves
when others don't

good to  be
the girl
with unusual persistence
I insist on persistently puttering along
my words may never be read
be a solo kind of song
that only echos in the forest of my mind

life indeed can be unkind
(good times/bad times/all times get over)
unkind times malinger/do they
at times

it (life) does not favor success on many
the omelets made of nest eggs
are aplenty...(really...I think not)
still

I have lived for today
and write what I may
though no ears no eyes nor hearts
perceive my words

all my bon mots
will have to be apropos enough for moi
and sentences are best expressed
better not to remain oppressed

for the repressed of us have been far too many

locked minds are not the kind
I'd call refined but reluctantly curved and bent
(by whom is the controversy)

the right key to find is in your own latch
unlock true creativity and make yourself hatch

inside find the yolk,
the cornucopia
of the unrefined mind.


Copyright October 15 2012
All Rights Reserved by this Author
Melissa A Howells
Meloo from her Tilt-a-World.





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