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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

All Beings Considered

I Long For Stars

The Best Revenge (For All Your Critic's Critiques)

Your Next New Dying Black Swan

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

All Too Clearly Now

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

Informed Through Pain

Sometimes In Losing I Have Gained A Lot

A Man Of The Clouds

The Birds Are Such Un-numbering Creatures of Distant Hitchcockian Past



Didn't You Learn That First Lesson In Kindergarten?

They Grew (A Poem From The Imaginarium)

Cuba Libre


Max on the max

The Little Bird Said

The Factory of Resentments

When My Blues Are Gone

Expect Yourself



Silver-Tongued Devil

Within The Green Wind Becomes The Fall

Think On This--IF YOU WOULD

Open Lines

You Got Your Lilly Back

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bicycled-in bounty

these are
fading summer suppers
in the park
bicycled-in bounty

we share our humbleness
the basics
in the grass

no dinner dress
nor manners get in the way
of sharing the
that is
a community

I find myself here
in the waning summer
more often than not
eating all manner
of earthy vegetables
and grains

and sharing
the roots of myself
when I am not too shy
to feel the cloying-ness
of daily cares

we may be poor
but we are never
poor in spirit
nor in our
simple kindnesses

this keeps me

Copyright August 20, 2013
All Rights Reserved By This Author
Melissa A Howells/ Meloo
Straight From Her Tilt-a-World

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