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

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

Words Between Edward And Jane

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

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



When Mr. Bemish Lost His Last Good Pair of Glasses

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

THE COOL TILES BENEATH MY FEET REMIND ME

CHRONICLER OF DREAMS

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

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

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

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

THE HEART IS AN ORGAN ON FIRE

A Girl Always Leaning Forward Looking for A Breeze

Entanglements

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

Appetites

How I Still Love You

Miss Tilt-a-World@

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

ANOTHER REFRIGERATOR POEM 7/2/2022

What Is The Price For Your Touch

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Appetites


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people fall in love
over tables
 not over oatmeal
but at restaurants

cupid arrows fly
the china clink-chimes
and the glasses ching-ching
the smiles grow enticingly wide

so wide
you'd think they were eating one another
not the salad

truth:
men like the chase
dazzle with wine and dine
until familiarity arrives
like a pulled stocking
and unravels everything

the once alluring face
and charms wane
and become thinned

but I prefer
spending time
and not counting moments
and finding out how
thoughts and sentences coincidentally
collide and rhyme
and could possibly make-up
a lyric to a gathering song
between me and him

women draw their breaths in
and hold onto them to a point fixed in the air
their eyes lingering long
and holding on to the moment

men are adept at
the pant and the stare
tongues waggling on
about themselves

when woman fills
the conversation
where she can
and feigns at rapt interest

when the attention span wane
a man's eyes betray
and begin to scout other potential prey
lurking 'round

men are up in their heads
while women think with their faces
sometimes revealing it all
giving the man too much information

women are on the menu
and men have limiting appetites
if she's the daily-gourmet-special
she's out of the line of his site/sight

wildness and variety
and consumption by satiety
is a combination
the man,
like a Greyhound,
 chooses
to pursue

while
I would rather eat alone
than nibble
bites of every man
I chew

still we carry on
with two separate ideas
of romance

he the lion
I the gazelle
across a table
taking my chance
at this game called pursuit

I know one must eat to survive
yet
I don't wish to be devoured
to feel alive

I'm not the dish
nor the leftovers
the first course
the main course
nor even the soup

mister
look at me
you're hungry
but don't you dare play with me
like I was your food.



LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 3:47PM PST 9/26/2022 MONDAY DATE AND TIME STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD





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