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Last Night

Hope Is Sometimes The Best Of All You've Got (definition poem)

Enough to Clear The Clouds Away 4/13/2019


Checking Out

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

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

Unwelcomed Like So Much Unfinished Business

In March (Finally, Spring 2016)

All For Algernon

Weak In The Knees

The Finisher's Song

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

All Beings Considered

This Is It

Max on the max

I Long For Stars

Falling Leaf, Falling Man/Woman, Rising Star

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

Its About Waking In The Middle Of The Night And Having To Write It All Down

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

If I Could Be The Sky...

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why am I still here?

I have lived in the basement of glass houses
all my life

many pretend to understand me,
my words

does it seem to matter much to me?
they don't understand me
not really

the world has gotten so complicated

people don't get involved
there's so little time
then there's the distance
in between us

and the barriers
both those imagined and unimaginable
all those excuses

we are all the
little pieces of the divine
gleaning nothings
ceding nothing

what are the gains

the shards of us
are too many
too scattered
to put

brokenness sometimes doesn't
get fixed
the broken often exist until they
exist no more

I saw that with my Mother
and my Father

they both seemed to be
stepping up
forming a line for this
I didn't want to join in,
nor wait for the end

just another lost chance
at wholeness again

don't think I ever had that
with family ever
the debris
was too scattered
to piece us
all back together

it was all a fairy tale story;
I told myself the comfortable lie
one to rock myself to sleep to;
it was a whirlwind of foolishness

I don't have a heart like
others do

its pieces of glass
barely held together
with cracklings
then some crazy glue
another grenade drops
who knows what
or what says

I must have a chest of steel
a pericardium of steel
a will of steel
the dumb stubbornness
of a goat

why am I still here?

Immaculati is a made up word my boyfriend B and I created today
and is included in the sense of COPYRIGHT HERE. a HYBRID OF TWO WORDS.

Copyright Melissa A Howells Meloo/Straight from her Tilt-a-World
The Author Retains All Legal Rights to This Writing.
All Poetry/Prose/Ideas/ Rants are the Legal Property of this Writer
Melissa A Howells/Meloo /Tilt-a-World

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