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No Good Boys, No Bad Boys

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

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

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

Certainly No Bread 3/16/2022

Someone Send Out A Search Party

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

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

If Prejudice Were Dumb And Could Not Speak

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When I Start to  Bloom


what luck
is there in a golden cup
some drink out of them

or is lucky a kind of
random chance
when someone overlooks you and
spares the rod of punishment
or gladly adopts you to their team

whats luck
got to do with it or with me
even if my first name
were  Truly Lucky
would that be
some sort of guarantee
that I might pass through life
unscathed and unafraid

nor be random circumstance's
its unwise to hold on tightly
for I might have to let it all
live tetherless
no togetherness
simply alone
in a wasteland of my own

what if my perspective
came from the point of a brighter sun
and it shone up from within me
and out into everything and onto

would luck kiss me on the mouth
of passing me by
like a wallflower girl
the perpetual sigh
of ennui

I made my earliest start
in the most awkward way--
yes  I did
feeling unloved
and a pugnacious kid
reading in closets and up in trees
torn dresses amd bloodied noses
and scabbed kneew

avoiding classmates
so I wouldn't get one of those
black-eyed third degrees
and even this too
happened  to me at home
where does  a child find a lucky

to hide under to turn over
when they need something to throw
through the window
so they can pull themselves through
to another better show

well I never threw too well
but I eventually found my ticket
to the lucky show
late late in life
on a day you said hello

I can't tell you all
of how I feel
maybe it will show up in my eyes
or in my sighs
maybe you will feel it
when you enter into my room
sometimes luck comes in the form
of another person
and all they are doing--
I've begun to see myself
as a different flower
even dandelions bloom

my heart now freely scatters seeds
sowing  fields of yellow happiness
all around me
gladly Ill uproot my feet
don't know quite how you found me

but your the gardener
who made me bloom.

written directly to the page
Sunday 9:21AM Pacific Standard Time September 17th 2023
for Tommy time stamped and dated for legal copyright@
Legal copyright for this poem and also for this Poet Melissa A. Howells
and also this legally registered and copyrighted site title
Meloo Straight From Her Tilt-a-World

editing later if necessary
re-edited Wednesday  September 20th on the first day of Autumn
9:56 PM Pacific Standard Time date and time stamped for legal copyright@

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