melissaahowells

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Like The Wind In The Middle Of The Night

Uncovered

The Blue Buffalo

Little Man Orange--My Mister Peanut Butter Trout

Not Someone's Grand Illusion



Wisdom of the Infinite

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

THE STITCH IN THE TELEPHONE WIRES

Patch-Worked Trilogy

I Turn Forward

The Storm

Prairie Town Progress

Beyond Door Number Three

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

Elise, Elise

A Bird, A Fly, A Cripple (Pity Poem?)

The Make-Up of Molecules

HOW

Haiku's In Triplicate

THERE WILL BE MORE ...

EVENTUALLY...

The Change In The Change(s)

At Night I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

Human History is Pockmarked With Tragedy

EXPECT COMPLICATIONS

A New Clear

What Exactly Comes Next?

Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils

morning thoughts (begin again)

Encounter Before Dawn

Somtimes in Surrender

The Cruel In The World (Blue Bag Metaphor)

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The Cruel In The World (Blue Bag Metaphor)


a blue plastic bag
went rolling along the tracks
pushed along by the wind

"keep rolling..."
it told itself
keep rolling-as if
it had a choice

this wasn't a playful ballet
the blue bag being insubstantial
with no tether to tie itself down
no help forthcoming

it had to try
to hold onto itself
believe that the winds would die down
or change directives

there's nothing quite like
change
and how one day
it simply
shows up.


LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 12:12PM PST 2/19/2020
TIME AND DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS AUTHOR/WRITER
MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY REGISTED
AND COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE: MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD







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