melissaahowells

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The Petty Player Who Rarely Sleeps

I'd Like A Taste (The Wolf Said)

The Crow Is A Black Bird

When I Start to Bloom

I'd Like To Be Your Shirt (when you wake up in the morning)



All Beings Considered

Words Between Edward And Jane

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

The Great Tsunami Of Our Growing Grief written 3/2.2021--retitled 3/14/2021

After Wide Sargasso Sea ( For Those of You Readers Who Have Empathy For the First Mrs. Rochester.)

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

Wild and Unraveling

What Must Be

These Hands Exist July 4 2023 rei-edited 7/12/2023

I Am The Color Of Black

The Tide of Your Lies (2019-2023)

How I Wanted Your Pearls 6/24/2023 WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE

Love Wants What Love Wants re-edited 5/31/023

Winter's Been Too Long.... 4/18/2023 (LONGING)

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Like A Small Street Dog Lured In By The Promise Of Meat

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

At Night, As I Dream of Vampires Who Have No Bad Intentions

And You Will Be Called Ashes As You Leave ( from a dream)

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

Someone Send Out A Search Party

THE FAN , AT NIGHT, GIVES GOOD ADVICE completely re-edited, an entirely different poem

What Is The Price For Your Touch? re-editied 5/31/2023

Where Is My Bed With The Pleasing Tree -Lined View(NOW REEDITED)

Oh What Fine Physics (Before Me ,Lies) re-edtited @4/17/2023

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

THE COMPANY THAT WE KEEP WITH THE ONE WITHIN

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Lights Out



parking lot attendant girls
who work in fancy hotels
have dreams
melissa chewed her pencil
as she wrote short stories
behind the parking lot till
filled with her schemes
the Fleetwood Cadillac
with its green hard top
parked in the third space
under the moonlight
became the scene
for her next murderous plot
where a showgirl
who carried her Gideon's Bible
and read it everywhere
and in between shows
was found in the moonlight
with fresh blood on her
pretty sequined panty hose
and spattered across her
quizzical blond bombshell brows
her tossled head looking up from
the bullet-ridden dashboard of the Fleetwood
counting the stars she would
never again know
when a horn honked
interrupting  the murder in mid-thought
the leather boy with the spit-collick curl
in his dark mustang Shelby
unloads a 38 special into her booth
and that's the abrupt
end to her tale
bang bang and shoot-em-up
isn't no real way to go
only the parked green hardtop Fleetwood
with its cold eyes
plays the silent witness
as melissa's
stars
go out.

all these random words given to me by my partner to fashion a poem
legal copyright for this poem
and also for this poet Melissa A. Howells
and also for this LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD
12:15AM PST TIME AND DATE STAMPED FOR PUBLICATION.

WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE AS WERE THE TWO PREVIOUS POEMS.






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