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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....

Satire and Sarcasm...Before The Parade Passes You By


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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when, we, en masse, are dying

youth is unwise
for not always will youth be
as they are today
and yet there remains
in their logic
a failure to realize
their fleetingness.

and a sniping-ness
a snooty-snot entitlement
and disdain
lodged within many an action,
perhaps even in thought,
but mostly in an attitude which is
towards elders
towards their environment
towards earth.

I worry about
a propensity towards the loving of
gadgets instead of
fauna, flora, human beings...
unless there be some utilitarian
function. Ugh.

elder-berry's is what we
may be. a decaying rot,
unrefined vintage
not to be listened to.

we, the boomers,
with whom they do not easily
empathize. we, who, in
a short twenty-thirty years
will meet our journey's end,
our due demise...
and the youth who were
youths...will be in charge.
while we die and die by and by
and largely large.
will they notice us,
heed us then,
en masse
are dying?

Copyright September 29, 2013
All Rights Reserved By Author

Melissa A Howells
Meloo from her Tilt-a-World

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