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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


Checking Out

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Someone Send Out A Search Party

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


Only The Choice To Be

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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

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I Long For Stars

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

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Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

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If I Could Be The Sky...

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

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Monsters  (Aren't We All)

Who feels for the Monsters
among us? I do. They make me wonder.
What happened to them?
What's it like to dwell
where its dark?
Who blotted out their light?
Or did they even recognize it?
The light in the world, the light
in themselves.
I see them on street corners.
Passers by giving them the widest swath
of ground, and looking up like they're
not around;
the looks on their faces
announce to the world:
Look at this creature.
He has no worth. A freak of nature.
A Monster from birth.  
While, all the while, the Monsters smirk.
Their sharp teeth hiding fears of being reviled.
Its an uneasy circumstance to be continually beguiled.
Dragging yourself around, like some lost child
who may never come home.
I knew of a man child
who slept at his Mother's convenience
in her bedroom closet. I knew of a woman
whose Father guarded her company jealously
from age two years old.
I'd like to know: How what made one of them
homeless, eventually made the other one whole
and thriving. She, later on,
adopting a daughter of her own.
You know, I think, we're each,
all alone.
and in our own way,

Copyright Saturday April 20th, 2013 All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
Melissa A. Howells   //// Meloo /// straight from her Tilt-a-World

Written onto a scrap of paper while on a Saturday odyssey running away
from the current brokenness of my life. Later transcribed. expanded Tuesday
April 23, 2013 late morning. Feeling this was well worth the re-writing.


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