melissaahowells

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The Petty Player Who Rarely Sleeps

I'd Like A Taste (The Wolf Said)

The Crow Is A Black Bird

When I Start to Bloom

I'd Like To Be Your Shirt (when you wake up in the morning)



All Beings Considered

Words Between Edward And Jane

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

After Wide Sargasso Sea ( For Those of You Readers Who Have Empathy For the First Mrs. Rochester.)

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

Wild and Unraveling

What Must Be

These Hands Exist July 4 2023 rei-edited 7/12/2023

I Am The Color Of Black

The Tide of Your Lies (2019-2023)

How I Wanted Your Pearls 6/24/2023 WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE

Love Wants What Love Wants re-edited 5/31/023

Winter's Been Too Long.... 4/18/2023 (LONGING)

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

At Night, As I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

And You Will Be Called Ashes As You Leave ( from a dream)

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

Someone Send Out A Search Party

THE FAN , AT NIGHT, GIVES GOOD ADVICE completely re-edited, an entirely different poem

What Is The Price For Your Touch? re-editied 5/31/2023

Where Is My Bed With The Pleasing Tree -Lined View(NOW REEDITED)

Oh What Fine Physics (Before Me ,Lies) re-edtited @4/17/2023

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

THE COMPANY THAT WE KEEP WITH THE ONE WITHIN

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********

a white plastic bag rises up
to test a western wind
Amy please come home
I promise you
it'll be so much better
than it has been

a six-foot high cross rises up
to touch the clouded sky
four long years have
crept on
Jordon Williams
do you rest in peace
as the whirring trains pass by

here is a reminder
of you
fallen
by the tracks
its wooden arms reaching towards
both the east and the to the west

not much left
to remember those by
but words by the roadside
meager poems
with the traffic trampling on the book of life

oh no where do the lost go
and how quickly are they forgotten
I notice these small signs
penned and left behind
and think on
the world's lost and misbegotten

I see the debris
the orange needle tops
I see what's left of all they have
strewn across their roadside flops

so many of my neighbors now avow
NO, not in my back yard
you who have so much
but lack all understanding
of the need for a real human touch

what happened to Amy
what happened to Jordon
has happened here
in their backyard
in their downtown
on their mean streets

people die
those who may never have had a home
not when they were children
even then they were alone

my brother
could so easily have
been one of them
it could have also been me

"Hey, you who've got all the answers...
why not spew some more of your wisdom
about this pervasive misery...

you who know all that you think you know...
if the Homeless can't go home then
where are the Homeless people supposed to go...

if they can't ever
go home?"

********


legal copyright for this poem 4:41pm PST
and also for this writer Melissa A Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World

Note: Just because you don't see it...
doesn't mean there isn't suffering.
Try a random act of kindness. Better yet
do it anonymously. You would be surprised
what good you can do for yourself and
for a random stranger.

These are REAL people memorialized by the train tracks
and the roadside. I felt they deserved to be
remembered.








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