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The Inner String

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

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Observations on a City, Thursday Afternoon

I saw
an abandoned
rusted padlock
swinging fast in the wind
on a high bridge
from a chain link fence...
who left it there?
where have they gone to?

Below the traffic rushed east/west
as if it had no direction,
as if the roads had to whisper where to go,
to give the drivers some intentions.

Looking down
I saw a strawberry,
shriveled, dry and  brown
at my feet.
It asked of me
"why was I wasted,
why did I grow?"
I looked at its shriveled-ness
and answered
"Some days I feel just as wasted even
though I appear whole."

I heard a city robin sing
in a pretended garden
in a language I could
only hope to learn or know.
I stood rooted to the sidewalk
and my feet nearly became roots
as my happiness began to grow.

I saw the fallow sky criss-crossed with
toxic furrows and wondered should I cover my mouth/face?
The entire horizon was as striped as an American Flag,
the pilots must have been playing tic-tac-toe all the way
up to outer space.

I heard a disheveled man shouting "I'm sorry, so sorry!"
"I really don't mean to be such a bother, but,
I've got no way home."

The abandoned padlock suddenly rusted through and
dropped off the chain link fence...was it some message
from a universe that had stopped making sense?

I was startled out of my metaphoric distractions
I bent down and secured the lock in my purse pocket
the lock became my prompt for this poetic reaction.


Okay, so this isn't the best poem.
It was written on a fast food napkin
I thought there some redeeming qualities. There is always editing.

Copyright April 19th 2015 All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
All rants, poetry, prose, ideas are the legal property of this writer
Meloo straight from her Tilt-a-World
Melissa A Howells

Thursday in Question...April 16th, 2015


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