melissaahowells

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522456 Poems Read.

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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Burning The Trees Into Ghosts

the night sounds are changed

no echoing trains

no stretched traffic sounds

we are all within

the boundaries

of un-civilization

and packed in tight

smoldering

and choked in proximity

I wonder if the crickets

have all moved to the country

or a distant star

this world is not the one

I remember and grew up in

and it was noisy back then

and all I longed for was silence

and the absence of shouts

and voices in conflict and disregard

its so much harder now to listen

that I block my ears to nod out

and put on waves

or thunderstorms

that are electronic

I think its become

almost demonic

how we can not count

on rain

nor an apology

or the coolness of a breeze

that does not spread fires

and burn the trees into ghosts

rooted to the ground

we're on

shaking un-common ground

I long for the past

and the peace I thought I didn't have

to live in.

LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 3:32PM 7/21/2021 TIME AND DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER/POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHT FOR THIS REGISTERED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD

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