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The Hoping

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Some Children Have Nightmares (tentative title)

Night Train


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

All The Changing....


Lonesome Love

two out of three people

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

The Little Bird Said

cat speech

Funny, Not Funny

All You Have To Do Is Breathe....


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

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Robin Kill

The robins are drinking again.
The worms are safely frozen
into the ground.
The colder winters bring about
conditions in which we all do the best we can.
The robins have taken on some of the habits
of the homeless.
Learning how to make do with little.
Gorging on what is available
to stay alive,
and only, later are they then found frozen...
in the state of permanent alcoholic bliss
or as the faithful would say
in perpetuity.
(An indefinitely long long time.)
The facts are this:
a bounty of holly berries red and round
were the only food that could be found
though they were mushy and rotten.
Not enough food to go around
for the so often forgotten.
After Christmas? Yes.
Oh Berries.
Soft in the beak.
Sweet in the gut.
Poison in the blood.
After several days with frenzied binge eating,
over fifty dead robins lying in the frozen mud.
And not a single cat around
on which to lay the blame.

(Having been too cold outside for most
 Mt Tabor cats.)

Outside, now it is Spring.
Or Spring is fast approaching.
I hear the bright song of a Robin
singing. He sings of plentiful worms
and warm weather. He sings of possibilities.
I will give him all he wishes.
For he has survived a hard winter.
And have not, we all?

Copyright March 11th, 2013  All Rights Reserved By this Writer/Author

Melissa A Howells/Meloo Straight from her Tilt-a-World

Poem based on facts. There was a Robin-Kill in Portland
during the coldest two weeks of winter. Facts are that
there is often a corresponding "kill" of the homeless
during the coldest weeks of winter due to exposure and
often unfortunately excessive use of alcohol...often
the only "pain killer" readily available to the homeless.

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