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I Am A Creature Of The Night. 5/31/2023 WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE FOR FUN

All Beings Considered

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

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

Words Between Edward And Jane



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

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

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

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

This Is What Mermaids Dream Of

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

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

WAITING ON THE WORLD (March/February 2021 poetry)

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

THE COMPANY THAT WE KEEP WITH THE ONE WITHIN

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 Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

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?

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

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The Way Of The Crow


sometimes I think

the crows know more than I do

sometimes I wish

I had their wings

sometimes I believe

my thoughts are like them

black on the outside but free beneath

sometimes I think they're my darker angels

way too often misunderstood



to live not so long
but to live more complete

when a crow flies

he threads the skies

with dark embroidery
and drops the last stitch in the trees



we
the crows and I

see the world how we see

from the vantage point of the clouds

not of those below



we know what few know

to be black

but not to be bleak nor tired

to wing and dream soaring high

if I were a crow

I'd always have family

and a shelter where I might go

welcome wouldn't just be a word written on a mat

its in the way

of the crow



November 28 2022  6:40pm time and date stamped for draft
legal copyright for this poem
and for this writer Melissa A. Howells
and for this legally copyrighted and registered site title
Meloo straight from her tilt-a-world.

1/9/2023 re-edited for clarity of metaphor and thought
Legal copyright 1/92023 4:01PM PST time and date stamped.





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