meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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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

I WILL RETURN

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Only The Choice To Be


borrowing
that's what the poor do
ownership has its drawbacks
sometimes I'd relish
the responsibility
a house
a cat
a yard to plant a garden
a place to belong in

I'm more like the prairie
holes to fill
and wide open spaces
and the wind passes through me

gone here are the family farms
and sloughs
and buffalo
most of it belongs to a big silent entity

I feel the miles accumulated inside of me
I see them
when I glance at my reflection

if I could be real
settle
be a true Indian
with choices to wander
or stake a claim

today I see
the poor sometimes
only have the choice to be
or not
(what choice is this?)



legal copyright for this poem March 6, 2019 1:05pm PST 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





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