melissaahowells

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At My Gnarled Feet 7/27/2021

Burning The Trees Into Ghosts

Here, After?

Only The Lonely.... (its not about what you may think...)

And The Next, And The Next..... (written directly to page, will return later for edits)



My Truth Is Out There (re-edited for clarity of thought and image later)

The Better Poem

Crimson Crush (Re-edited and Mispellings Corrected 6/11/2021)

The Last Shall be Trace-less 5/25/2021

Beware When The White Night Calls // re-edited 5/25/2020

BUYING LIES 5/22/2021

The Future I'm Caught Up In...RE-EDITED 5/22/2021

IN THE WILDERNESS CALLED YOU

Broken Things Are Beautiful

Cool Pea-Green New Leaves....(Imaginarium)

Sharp Sticks For The Cinderella's

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

It No Longer Surprises Me...

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE

Odd Things, Odd Thing.....

The Magical Closet( re-edited for clarity of metaphor)

The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

The Legacy List

WE SHARE... march 2021 poetry

This Firestorm Of Dying Lights..

The Threshold To The Other World...(March 2021/Feb 2021)

(MELISSA'S) ALL---TRUE---ISMS....3/3/2021 4:51 pm PACIFIC STANDARD TIME

I Long For Stars

February 11, 2012 / Today The Storm...

MOLECULES

No Broom Could Chase Me.

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A Man Called Tsuris


every October it
would be the same
his troubles would slant in on him
like rain

I asked him
because I knew him
or so I thought I did
why had he traveled so far across the country
to a land in a place where it rained
the way it did

he didn't have the answers
he only said how it rained
and that the rain troubled him so
he didn't carry an umbrella
nor wear a mackintosh
nor have an oar
to paddle his boat
he wasn't collecting animals 2x2

unprepared
he was
for all that rain

he called himself
Tsuris
I heard him say it
very loud and
very plain

he was irascible
he was grumbling like the thunder
he was as unpredictable
as the weather
he didn't know it
but

he was the rain.


Copyright September 20, 2014
All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
Meloo/Melissa A Howells straight from her Tilt-a-World
All ideas/prose/poetry/rants are the legal property of this Writer


There's a person who bears partial resemblance
to this poem. He's a bear of man. Yet I adore him.

We are all, in our own ways, are we not,
unpredictable, grumbling, irascible. No one
escapes this. It is what makes us human.

We love people in spite of their flaws. Why?
Because we have them too? Well, partially, yes.
Partially, too, because its their flaws that make
them who they are to us. Think about it.


Tsuris is the Yiddish word for Trouble.





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