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Oh What A Fall

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

The Hot Seasons

Perhaps I Too, Was Frozen

You Are (I'm Here With You)

Joyce Will Soon Be Seventy-Something

All Too Clearly Now

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

Last In Class

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

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

in-EFFECTIVE (Fragile)

I Long For Stars

From The Point Of A Star

Someone Send Out A Search Party

This Is It

If I Were Your Island....

Spokes Spoken

Plain Speakin' (Lyrical Poem)

All Beings Considered

It Is The Rain

Like a Small Child Tucked Into

I Talk To A Machine In My Darkness

Its Their Problem

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

the life and times of Medusa

Max on the max

Your Next New Dying Black Swan

For the Years of Dancing (Dance Hall Days Gone)

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

Someone Burned The Trees

Crowded Out

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Preschool Presence of Mind

I painted
a portrait of me
called "m/untitled"
how I've tired of them
their bit and their bridle
of descriptors
their elipsors of me
like goose-gossipers
as if I was within their telescope
as if either end
of their vision
might recommend me

truth be
my reputation does proceed me
so many don't see
but claim to
opinion's not fact
with bias plus tax

how we soon all forget
that our words leave booted tracks
and sadly,
our manners

what did you learn in
kindy-garten anyway...
to play wake-up fairy
and nap all the day

can't you learn to play fair
to live by the golden rule
is it true you bypassed the basics
hammered in before school

Donald, oh Donald
we've cried
and we've sighed
and we've tried with you
but, Donald,
you haven't been listening


legal copyright for this poem/rant
and also for this writer/poet/author
Melissa A Howells and also for this legally copyrighted
site title: Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
7:48pm PST January 17 2018

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