meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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Little Man Orange--My Mister Peanut Butter Trout

A Little Bit of Harlem in Your Life

THE STITCH IN THE TELEPHONE WIRES

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

The Differences



If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

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Not Someone's Grand Illusion

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

All Beings Considered

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The Little Bird Said



********


the little bird said
the little bird one-foot hopping
in my head

don't live your life
at the point of
terminal velocity

because
you'll meet The Terminus
so determined to end is He,
sometimes,
He's not a very nice guy

He lives either above or below
or lurking behind
a shadow
or a bat-owl gliding in the sky

He is
The Determiner, The Abacus, The C.P.A.,
The Forever Eternal Spy

He doesn't care much for your reasons
your good name
your poetry
your excuses
and why you fly

He likes little birds
He crushes them to make His wine
His bread
His pie

The Terminus
is no Exodus

He decides how, who and when
the final circumstances for the end
and we'll never know until
He whispers into the wind

"Little Birdies,
all mine,
time to go..."



legal copyright for this poem and also for this write
Melissa A Howells and also for this legally copyrighted
site title Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World
time/date stamped 10:01 AM PST June 20, 2019...I woke up with the first several
lines of this in my head and then felt compelled to write the rest.





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