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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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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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The Light Goes On In The Attic (WeAll Have Addictons)


some days
the light goes on in the attic
the consciousness begins to grow
I am my lover's heart
I am my brother's keeper
and also the keeper
of the sister I've yet to know

we're one and all
sons and daughters with a legacy
one of addiction
one of pain, one of grief
we point the finger to outsiders
that surround us
saying we're so not like them
but that's a false-front belief

all of us are addicts
this I've learned to know
all addicted to something or someone
all with baggage we have to let go

look at all the people you see
the parade of people on the street
some look fancy some look dirty
inside they're all the same
they're trying to be invisible and discreet
no one wants to expose their secrets
no one wants to have their sins laid bare
no one wants to know the world is lonely
that there are judges every where

sometimes the light goes on in the attic
sometimes what's up there lays undiscovered
the dusty files lie unclaimed unrecognized
and rarely seen
the truth is that we all are addicts
and if you think not
you're lost more than you seem

point the finger at the others
at the problems
call and label them what you will
but the problem is in the attic
and that its dark there and for some
it always will
be that way

our problems are our ladders
our worries make us whole
our secrets are better shouted
our weaknesses give us soul

gather up all the broken people
gather up the broken planet
gather up and bring them to your attic
see how a little light
helps you see yourself and your relationship
to it all
and then you become a part of something
and you become someone
become the light that attracts
a whole new world.


Legal Copyright for this poem/work and also for this
writer/author Melissa A Howells and also for this
legally copyright site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World






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