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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

Wisdom of the Infinite

Not Someone's Grand Illusion

Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

All Beings Considered

After Wide Sargasso Sea

Great Big Waterproof World

The Storm

I Turn Forward

Patch-Worked Trilogy

And Then It Wasn't Hard To Be Eight Years Old

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Beyond Door Number Three

Great Spirit

Elise, Elise

The Make-Up of Molecules

Someone Send Out A Search Party

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HOW

EVENTUALLY...

THERE WILL BE MORE ...

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The Hoping


she sleeps wrapped
silent
as a bouquet of black flowers
editing the pauses between
her thoughts

the fan whispers
a language
all of its own
tremulous
breathless
mimicking the outside
rising whistling wind

a cloud looms and floats
within her mind
the thought of returning home
to a place
she's yet to discover

next to her,
sonorous
and snoring
he is...
tossed on the waves
of his breath-filled sleep
he wrestles with formless phantoms
cunning, they are and
how do they know how
to read his thoughts?

kissing his cheek
murmuring
she half-speaks:

"you're alright sweet pea,
I'm here..."

knowing
they both need their days
in the sun
to evaporate their fear

when I'm on the outside
looking in
I think
where's my path...
where do I fit?

there's gaps in my  breathing
as I lie awake in your bed
small gasps
restlessness
questions
the hoping for better
and mixed in the gratitude
for some days
just how it is

knowing the fine regard
how they share for one other
is the saving glue
the glimmer of light
which turns blackness
into sunrise
and dawning pink-tinged blue.


LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 4;49PM PST TIME/DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS AUTHOR/WRITER/POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM  HER TILT-A-WORLD









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