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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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what is dreaming?

I am asked to make a pizza.
Each one is in the shape of a heart
and the dough is blood red.
After it is baked
they, the hungry ones, devour it,
laughing, saying:
"Weren't we starving and
didn't she taste good."
Ruddy rings surround their mouths which are
filled with row upon row of sharply pointed teeth.

I am staring into the future when
a man and a woman remark:
"My what lovely unusual eyes you have,
such a deep deep blue they are."
"You must see a lot with eyes such as these..."
I reach up to feel my eyelids,
but the couple, my eyes are gone.
My hands instinctively reach forward

I am walking and soon I tire.
I find a wide grey rock and sit down
to rest and think.
A small slumping man approaches me
"Tired, eh?" (Snickering under his breath.)
"Are you lost child?" (More snickers.)
"Or, have you lost your way to get there?"
(Guffaws and hands rising and falling in the air
like some grand joke.)
I cannot speak. Merrily the Rumpelstiltskin skips
away. Tucked under one arm are my feet and blue-suede boots.
I stand, forgetting, and immediately fall over
in pain.

Then, from a birds-eye view I can see me,
lying on the ground,
crumpled, heap-like.
Exhausted. Without a stray hound's chance
at hope.

An itch begins in the middle of my back,
traversing each shoulder blade.
I rise spontaneously supported by
two newly fledged broad grey wings.

You've gotten back more than
you have lost. I whisper.

I wake.
What is dreaming?
Pain, loss, redemption?
Much more than that.
What are dreams?
Invisible insights made real.
Blessings demanding notice.

Copyright October 28,2013
All Rights Reserved By This Author
Melissa A Howells/Meloo from her Tilt-a-World

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