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Some Children Have Nightmares (tentative title)


wandering the rolling hills ...(written for his model)

All The Changing....


Lonesome Love

two out of three people

A Start Again...(I Green-Dreamed Again Last Night)

cat speech

Funny, Not Funny

All You Have To Do Is Breathe....


A Dog Should Have His Tail...

Enough to Clear The Clouds Away 4/13/2019

Checking Out


Hope Is Sometimes The Best Of All You've Got (definition poem)

Last Night

Crows...writing exercise in honor of April /National Poetry month


Only The Choice To Be

When People Go

The Day You Left (Words From A Half-Remembered Dream)

Wake Wake Wake

It Is In The Rain

Dream Goblins Of The Night

Wake And Remember

Unwelcomed Like So Much Unfinished Business

In March (Finally, Spring 2016)

All For Algernon

Weak In The Knees

The Finisher's Song

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Two Better Pasttimes.  ( A Bit O' Rant)

my watercolors are bright
the people and the animals
painted in improbable hues
some folks say to me
why would you do
(pointing at my color choices...)
so then I reply by stating:
WHY the hay not?
Magical Realism is way under-rated
and more joyful.
and reality, well, is overly done
is quite overly-wrought.

I try to ply my brushes
in ways that make my heart
and mind soar
to places I'd like to dream of.
Rendered in Technicolor
they literally fly off the page
on my magic carpet ride
of possibilities.

I paint where my imagination takes me...
to purple wolves and cats with polka dots
crows with hearts emblazoned across their chests
and all sorts of creatures grinning widely
or thinking their deeper thoughts
looking straight out into the viewer's eyes
from off the paper.

My people also stare out with soulful, emotion-laden eyes
The pupils pulse and are often swirling orbs of multiple tint.

its important to leave multiple teasing hints
and to suggest there's much more to be seen
than what's in one's immediate point of view.
And the advice is for you,
the viewer and reviewer
to look just a little bit closer in.

My art puts out the invitation
to one's inner-most child,
to that part in all of us that's still waiting and wild
but lies dormant hoping to be re-discovered.

my paintings are an unknown world where
Glitter Hearts jig with their arms
reaching up for the full harvest moon...
and fried eggs fall from the sky like rain onto toast
and cats and dogs and horses come in more colors
and patterns than most.
and humans really show what it means to be Beings
and exhibit full well on their faces, their feelings.
and grim monsters look out of the canvasses
to display their frail human vanities.

you may say
my writing is often too somber
repeating its sentiments
gathering up the same oft-familiar dust
and how I aver and avow too much
with too much blunder-bluster and and feisty-fuss
and grit-to-the-grind
too much weighed down with the
daily dawdle of the chomp
and the bit and the dregs and drag
of the daily life of the mind.

oft-filled with tales of daily woes n' wonderings
cataloging my all of my unhappinesses
and most unharmonious of extemporary -feelings
dire-dour observances all seem to be my self-decrees...
let me advise you dear readers
I write so that I can sleep
at night
with some greater ease.

I paint
so I can dream
I paint
so I can believe
there is a dream
and that one day
I will arrive.

Between my writing
and my painting
the two keep me going
sustain me.
Two better past-times
I could not better recommend
nor surmise.

Legal copyright for this rant/poem
3:44pm PST time date stamped
and also for this writer/poet Melissa A. Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title:
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World

thank you for reading...if you don't understand, ask.

written directly to the page, will come back for editing later.


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