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Yes, You--There

Two Better Pasttimes. ( A Bit O' Rant)

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

This Is It

Old Hunters Of The Fall

I Long For Stars

Falling Leaf, Falling Man/Woman, Rising Star

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

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

It Feels Better To Be Unfinished (Wish-Unspoken, But With My Eyes)

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

All In The Family (Family, What A Concept)


Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

Max on the max

All My Children ( CATS ARE PEOPLE TOO)

How I Think That About Every One...

In Layers

Someone Send Out A Search Party

Silent Endings

All Beings Considered

Wake And Remember

Call This Our Autumn

Small Sentry

If I Could Be The Sky...

All Too Clearly Now

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care



It Comes At Night

The Hot Seasons

Perhaps I Too, Was Frozen

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Where None Should Grow

golden poppies grow
where none should grow
I've counted
seven yellow heads nodding in the wind
their heads bobbing
cuing my attention

they do deserve a field
others for the company
friends and family

they do what so many no must
live carefully where and while they can
what a picture they make
rising up from a fissure in the sidewalk
fractured off
from the rest
by concrete

14 Karat Phoenixes
making an elegant bouquet
together they make a glowing candle
of surprise
and un-imagined expectation

they live where no ought to go
they grow
where none should grow.

this was written as an observation while riding on the
Eastbound MAX Green Train. These seven flowers were
rising from a crevasse on the northern side of a street corner
on the bridge, Tuesday May 7, 2018 3:13PM PST
date and time stamped

legal copyright for this poem
and also for this writer Melissa A Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World

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