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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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none of our dirty business

in the west the birds were flying
coming home
we watched them winging in
and felt their shadows passing

where do they go for their rest at night
where do they sleep
why is it that they seem so silent
and do birds dream
like you and I dream

westward flying
to their beds
are we westward flying
in our heads
as we nod off

what thoughts go through
their feathered heads
my thoughts go with them
as I wonder
what drives them to safe haven

do the encamp
high in boughs or branches
or low in
hedges and wooded glens
or wedged
into nooks and crannies
in the eaves of houses
and of fast food restaurants
(I have even seen them there)

they take their rest
when and where they will and can
they are not so unlike us
like resourceful women and men
who too have no homes

why then do we admire the bird
but not the homeless ones

creatures both great and small
are sacred in the all-seeing eyes of God
especially when they have nothing

why is it we are so

why is it we are so

we would feed and house
the wild bird

but leave the homeless man
and call it fate
and none of our dirty business

we are all connected...remember this...practice kindness and acceptance
Copyright June 7 2016 All Rights Reserved By This Author
Meloo/Melissa A Howells
straight from her Tilt-a-World
blues menu


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