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In The Sanctuary Of My Head

The Broken-Winged Birds and People (re-edited 4/5/2323 3:03PM PST) (re-edited 11:14am PST 2/23/2023)

The Hell Of Winter (re-edited 4:27pm PST 3/9/2023)

My Grey Haired Love...La La Lullaby , La La Lullaby My Love

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE



When Mr. Bemish Lost His Last Good Pair of Glasses

Kathy Brown Kathy Brown

Something Not Quite Right About Here (Vortex) re-edited 1/26/2023

THE COOL TILES BENEATH MY FEET REMIND ME

The Way Of The Crow

DO YOU TURN THE LIGHTS SO YOU CAN SLEEP?

The Springtime Shadows Play Games Upon The Wall

CHRONICLER OF DREAMS

YET ANOTHER ANTI-POETRY POEM ( re-edited 11/2/2022)

You Do As You Please 8/17/2005 found poem, readjusted 6/20/22

HERE WE SIT AT OUR TABLE 2/19/2022

Much Better Than This ( A Conversation With The Universe)

The Straight Story (What Happens When The Writer Inserts You Into Her Story)

THE TIDE CALLED LONELINESS

A Girl Always Leaning Forward Looking for A Breeze

Entanglements

Have You Ever... (DECEMBER 4/2021)

Appetites

How I Still Love You

The Smile Which Eludes @

He Says To Me, I Think Too Much (and hence dream too much as well)

When You Learn Who You Really Are And What Is...

Anti-Poem Number Three 8/2/2022 Or, A Poem Your Proper Mother Wouldn't Write

Breathing On My Own

A Girl Is More Than a Beautiful Box re-edited 10:15pm PST 1/31/22

I LOVE YOU ALWAYS ANYWAY AND INSTEAD

Talk To Me In The Dark 7/8/2022

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Broken Things Are Beautiful


********************

broken things are beautiful
and between the cracks
we're all often too inscrutable
I've seen the beauty of being
a-being-broken
and in the lack of what shouldn't be
so-in-between

a bird I found
alone and frightened
feathers flopping
eyes are whitening
I reached for her and
knew she was gone

four kittens in an abandoned house
their Mother lifeless
lying on a tattered couch
I fed them with a dropper
and named them so that they might live

my brother with his wounded pride
his possessions in one truck
piled to the roof inside
the smell of fear and loss

a man lying with his face on the ground
asking for his Mother and for mercy
all around the crowd's screaming
he's in trouble
he can't breathe

am I a watcher
am I a hanger-on
do I suffer as I look on
does the world suffer or does it
turn away

broken things are beautiful
when we fall between the cracks
and life's meaning seems inscrutable
we've been the broken beauty of our being
known what's right and what's never should be
in between...

there is a chance
we all might be
irrevocably lost

there's a cost
to being broken and beautiful
being beautiful shouldn't have to hurt
pulling wings off a butterfly
and knowing what it takes to make a man cry
and to close your heart
and watch him die

that's a broken-ness
that cannot be fixed
a soul needs to be released from its cage
a people from their fears and their rage

until there's mending
there'll be no relief
resetting the scales while
also admitting this is all of ours to grieve

I don't want to sweep anymore
butterfly wings from the street
and fill up God's heavens with sad angels.


legal copyright for this poem 5:45pm PST April 16th 2021
time and date stamped and also for this poet/writer
MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED
SITE TITLE: MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD

STILL, LORD WE ARE IN TIMES NEW ROMAN AND THE MENU IS BLUE...BLUE...BLUE...












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