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The Hoping

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....


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 Can Happen) when wishing can make it snow

What happens?

wishing can make it snow

slanting in sideways
dervishes of air making
small tornadoes of white

the traffic and the city silenced
no humans tracks yet showing in
the canopied new wilderness

it is a loneliness for the past
and the cold hanging breaths of memory
make of me a Mesmer of the weather

wishing CAN make it snow

there's no calling it back...
the blanketing, the hushing
the putting of the world
to bed
the light-blue penciling in of
buildings, streets, of all
man-made linear creation
and even making
Mother Nature herself
an exile

Old Man Winter
the harbinger of headache and havoc
scattering all to desperate searches for shelter
wherever however they can

do the crows fly to
and does the raccoon burrow away
what of the sad crocus
confused by a false Spring
huddled beneath her coverlet of white,
hushed into a quieted breathing...

it feels as if the entire world
has been quite swallowed
and we all go to our death-dreaming
as we sleep
impatiently awaiting


today I went walking in a melted
wonderland and found the crocus and her sisters,
a little crushed, but nestled together
in a resilient resistance

the weight of winter doesn't have to
crush us...I thought
for here I see even the most
fragile, persevere

Legal Copyright February 6th 2014 PST
for this work by this writer/author
/Melissa A Howells
for this legally copyright site title:
Meloo Straight from her Tilt-a-World

a work in progress
re-edited for spelling/wording January 24, 2017
7:50am PST

In this winter of our great discontent there were
nine snow days and five deaths of homeless people
in less than a month's breadth. In the comfort of
our houses/apartments we somehow forget how
people live outside too, if you can call that living.
It is survival on a daily basis for them. All of these
needless deaths saddened me greatly. But the one which
brought me greatest pause was the death of one whose life
had not yet the chance to begin. The newly born child
of a young homeless woman found frozen wrapped in blankets
at an un-enclosed Portland bus stop.
What obscene anguish they must've gone through.
Surely this is a failing of our humanity.

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