meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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PRAIRIE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

And Then It Wasn't Hard To Be Eight Years Old

Just Beyond The Door

Great Spirit



Elise, Elise

MOLECULES

Someone Send Out A Search Party

Make (of) Me A Snow Angel

threading myself through the river of night

After Wide Sargasso Sea

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Dragons

HOW

EVENTUALLY...

THERE WILL BE MORE ...

At Night I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

morning thoughts (begin again)

Human History is Pockmarked With Tragedy

Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

A Man Of The Clouds

The Cruel In The World (Blue Bag Metaphor)

Somtimes in Surrender

Encounter Before Dawn

Shedding Your Skin

Liminality

How Does It, How Do You Matter?

NEEDING /KNEADING MORE (sometimes)

WHAT WILL YOU THINK GENTLE READER, AFTER YOU'VE FINISHED READING THIS?...We Are All Star Children

Not My Season

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All Too Clearly Now


most are pleased
having words dedicated to them
I'm fairly certain
you would not be
pleased

I see you
all too clearly
brother
it is as if someone turned off the sun
and made you the center of the universe
instead

I think you'd wish me dead
I'm the odds on favorite
You know the score
what are the odds
what is the pointspread
to wishing me dead...

I know I have been gone
or at least missing
for nearly as long as I have been alive

the problem then is
seeing you all too clearly
I'd rather not see you nearly
this well

the spit and polish of you melted away
the veneers between us worn thin
portending an expanding emptiness
the eventual super nova
darkness
and then decay

you regale in how you believe
I never knew you
well I almost wish I never knew you too
at least the person you've become

I will concur
I don't have to be demure to say
I'm not one wit like you

best to declare our irreconciable
differences
that is what the difference is
between us
you so ready to give up
me the ghost and all her memories

the truth is a songbird
singing far off and flown away
and you are tuneless
no song of love for me today
or any other day
your heart no longer hears mine beating

like bad weather
I cannot wish you and your
clouds away
like part of my past and blood
I can not
exsanguinate you*


legal copyright for this poem/work
12:41pm July 3 2018/time date stamped
and also for this writer Melissa A Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World

*when something is exsanguinated...the blood is removed...
completely drained...when it comes to ties of blood; however,
the blood is much more difficult to remove





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