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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

A Smattering Of Mattering (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

I Will Return

Like The Wind In The Middle Of The Night

The Hoping

Better To Bend Than Be Broken (CHANGE)

Belle Du Jovan

The Hope Of All These Things Which Would Never Come In a Box

The Best Revenge (For All Your Critic's Critiques)

Informed Through Pain

All Too Clearly Now

The Birds Are Such Un-numbering Creatures of Distant Hitchcockian Past

Shrine

Silver-Tongued Devil

TONIGHT

The Factory of Resentments

Expect Yourself

They Grew (A Poem From The Imaginarium)

One Which Brings Me Unending Release

Where The Weird Actually Tried To Turn Pro

Accountants

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Words


some days
words seem like sharp sticks
smacked about
and poked in faces
words used to be more reasonable
and didn't insist
they were the law
or the rule
or the example
or even
the very last word
on the subject
any dang subject
words have changed
or is it the mouths
that speak them
and to whom those
mouths are attached
there seems to be a frail link
to the head
nor consequence attached
we no longer look each other in the eye
but banty words
electronically through the air
and without the stare or look
they often lack
conviction
but purvey
malice and pride
some words are better
left inside.


LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 12:12 pm PST February 26 2019/time-date stamped
and also for this writer/poet/author Melissa A. Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted website
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD





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