meloostraightfromhertilt-a-world

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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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Not My  Season


can I write something simple
filled with ease
and not the malaise
or saccharine happiness
of the season

to not be joyful
seems a paltry charge
to be made the case for high treason

I will claim my innocence
instead
and keep quietus--
renew my vows
not participate
in the merry riot-ness
of the too near and maddening crowds

already I sing aloud
in the shower--
and its not caroling
but vocables and blues
the music I choose

like all my other choices
I live my life to please me
I'll  make no joyful noise
but gladly make a compromise
to declare peace
and a silent night.

Legal copyright for this poem 3:46 PM PST time/date stamped
and also for this poet Melissa A. Howells
and also for this legally copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World





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