melissaahowells

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The Petty Player Who Rarely Sleeps

I'd Like A Taste (The Wolf Said)

The Crow Is A Black Bird

When I Start to Bloom

I'd Like To Be Your Shirt (when you wake up in the morning)



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Words Between Edward And Jane

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

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

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Wild and Unraveling

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These Hands Exist July 4 2023 rei-edited 7/12/2023

I Am The Color Of Black

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How I Wanted Your Pearls 6/24/2023 WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE

Love Wants What Love Wants re-edited 5/31/023

Winter's Been Too Long.... 4/18/2023 (LONGING)

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

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At Night, As I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

And You Will Be Called Ashes As You Leave ( from a dream)

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

Someone Send Out A Search Party

THE FAN , AT NIGHT, GIVES GOOD ADVICE completely re-edited, an entirely different poem

What Is The Price For Your Touch? re-editied 5/31/2023

Where Is My Bed With The Pleasing Tree -Lined View(NOW REEDITED)

Oh What Fine Physics (Before Me ,Lies) re-edtited @4/17/2023

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

THE COMPANY THAT WE KEEP WITH THE ONE WITHIN

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Revenge (written in the summer of 1981)


(written as a nineteen year old before entering college)

If I could
I'd put on four pair
of long feathery legs
and appropriate sting-ware

Then I'd frighten you into a corner,
and once you were there...
close in, bite, then ensnare you,
carry you off without a prayer.

I'd drag you away
to my cozy spider nest.
Sip on your blood.
Then devour the rest.

There'd be no qualms.
No tears. No regrets.

For it is He who plays
with deadly spiders
who deserves
what He gets.

Copyright June 1981 All Rights Reserved By This Author
Meloo/Melissa A Howells straight from her Tilt-a-World
All ideas/poetry/prose/rants are the legal copyrighted property of this writer

*****this piece will appear in a later published book






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