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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

Call This Our Autumn

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

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



Falling Leaf, Falling Man/Woman, Rising Star

It Comes At Night

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)

Oh What A Fall

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

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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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