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

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

I Long For Stars

All Beings Considered

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

All Too Clearly Now

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)

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Cuba Libre

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

Max on the max

The Little Bird Said

Your Next New Dying Black Swan

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

I Write This To Remember


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one for me, and one for the horse

pushing the swinging doors aside
the silent man staggered into
the local watering hole
exhausted from a long day's work
of felling and clearing trees

dried sweat laced his furrowed brow
and dust bowl grit lined
his fingernails
coated his teeth

bellying up to the bar
the foreman asked the barkeep
for a tall cold one
and a chaser to soothe
the soreness in his knotted muscles

a whistling sigh escaped his pursed lips
as he slowly drank
slaking his aching thirst

the doors swung wide
and another man rode in
this time
on horseback
wearing a ten gallon hat
ducking as he entered the doorway

the stranger, in turn,
bellied up to the bar
his appaloosa
16, 17 hands high
cozying up beside him

"fill er up,"
bellowed the broad-shouldered man
pointing to the tall hat
"and a boiler maker fer me."

the CCC foreman scratched his head
and bent over with laughter
as the thirsty appaloosa drained the
ten gallon hat
filled with beer
then belched.

The CCC Foreman was my Grandfather Thompson
This is a true story.

Copyright January 20, 2014
All Rights Reserved By This Author
Meloo Melissa A Howells/ Tilt-a-World

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