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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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Rooster ( A Very Short Story In 5 Parts)

There was a rooster who dreamed of wings. Of flight. Of being a bird.
He did not know he wasn't. Every night he dreamed only as a chicken could
dream. His head tucked beneath the bib of his feathers. Dreaming through
the bright lights when it was night. Dreaming through the deep darkness
that permeated the day.

This didn't stop the Rooster from dreaming. For all birds dream.
In between rapid eye movements he saw skies filled with millions of birds.
They called to him. Skies were filled, day and night, brimming with the overwhelming
excitement of birds of all kinds. Birds of irregular shapes and sizes. Birds
that were and were not like him. Birds filled with eagerness. With joy.

In his dream, the Rooster's legs began to pedal as if he were running.
A constant tingling itch took root near the stems of his broad wings. A rush of air lifted
him upwards. Glancing out he saw vast multitudes. Reaching, he could feel the brush of
other wings. Looking down, he felt the thrill of seeing tree tops and the
roofs of tall buildings. The blood surged through his broad chest into his
beating proud heart. Soon he was singing in a language that was unfamiliar
but he knew he would soon come to understand. A call.

In the distance, a verdant green island loomed. It was graced with a menagerie
of living birds. He adjusted his wings and landed, surely, with a soft bounce
on waving tall grass. Around him, the multitudes cackled, crowed and cawed in greeting.
He answered in a new voice. He understood. Home.

NOT as early as he usually did, the cantankerous farmer awoke in a worse humor than usual.
"That damn Rooster!" He sneered under his breath, biting the inside of his quivering jowls. "Forgot
to wake me. I'll fix his gizzard! Even the Roosters are lazy around here!" Scalding his throat on
day-old coffee reheated in the microwave, he kicked his old faithful dog. As he slammed the front
door, he banged his arthritic left knee on the front porch banister. " GD Hellfire and tarnation!"
He skulked down the stairs, in a fouler mood than usual. And upon arriving at his destination,
he found the coop-gate gaping wide open. Near the entrance was a neat stack of scattered
silver-grey feathers. Next to it, a small impression of Rooster tracks. His blue-ribbon winning
Rooster gone forever. His no more. Amen.

So happily, for the Rooster, not the end. But many new beginnings.

Copyright June 22, 2014 Author Melissa A Howells/Meloo
All Ideas/Poetry/Stories are Property/Copyrighted by this Author
Copyright Site: Tilt-a-World

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