melissaahowells

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I Turn Forward

The Storm

Prairie Town Progress

Beyond Door Number Three

The Make-Up of Molecules



I Will Return

Marinate On This

A Smattering Of Mattering (How Do You Matter)

Threading Myself Through The River Called Night

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

from the tomb of three days sleeping

So You Do (May 10, 2010 written for June 1987)

Lemonade Days and Rhubarb Pies

Life Among Clouds

HOW

EVENTUALLY...

THERE WILL BE MORE ...

At Night I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

morning thoughts (begin again)

Human History is Pockmarked With Tragedy

After Wide Sargasso Sea

Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils

A Man Of The Clouds

The Cruel In The World (Blue Bag Metaphor)

Somtimes in Surrender

Encounter Before Dawn

Great Spirit

Shedding Your Skin

Liminality

NEEDING /KNEADING MORE (sometimes)

WHAT WILL YOU THINK GENTLE READER, AFTER YOU'VE FINISHED READING THIS?...We Are All Star Children

Not My Season

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


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A bird trapped in a room
is good luck
(they say)

What would the bird say?

A common housefly will wear itself out
trying to find its way
back outside

(a sun-filled window will deceive it)

Exhausted both might die
the bird, its wing broken
the fly, dried up lying at the windowsill

(the sun pouring in, the wind coming through the screen"

(their dreams unreachable--outside the pane of glass)

A cripple with her dangle-leg
remembers dancing all night long
and walking without the reassurance of a third false leg

A bird desired
the housefly expires
a cripple simply carries on...

what a pity
to be the epitome
the pit of me.

LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 5/15/20 6:47PM PST
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD
AND ALSO FOR THIS POET/WRITER MELISSA A. HOWELLS,
DEFIANTLY STILL







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