Biography of Joe Howell
Joe Howell Poems
Sunlight peeps thru closed curtains like a sleepy child, nodding in - out yet you sleep. the wave of pre-dawn passion, renaming lost childhood dreams
Evening In Paris
The sun, a glass marble shines on innocense. I lie in short grass, looking into the future. The moon- a shiny biscut covers the clouds.
The Death Bird
friends found in an old photo albam so young, full of life, i remember when the death bird sang, calling sorrow calling your name
7 Past Sunrise
the clock stops, it's 7 past sunrise rain clouds gather in widow's veil I am studdering your name, missing you to a North Carolina town
Days End -------------------- It's a silent time, when i pack it all in, call it a night, walking to my bed
Found that ole tune on the radio today though of you, it's been so long-so long
It was the summer that i turned 17 I wanted a 22 cal. rifle for my birthday that was all i thought of, boy i shot a million invisible rounds at everything from cans
These Men I Call Brothers
'We few. We happy few. We Band of Brothers. For those who shed their blood with us today shall always be our Brothers' 'William Shakespeare'
Cafe Of Broken Dreams
She worked in confortable shoes with thick soles, polished in hearts of lovers that beg not to be forgoten
Dr's Waiting Room
Silver grey hair wrinkles like hiways on a map a floral pattern on her dress must have been made in 1932
Circle Of Gold
wayward words spilling from heated lips 'you did's' floating in and out 'but if', pushing in every now and then why not just pack up and leave
Oh Death please come my way do not tarry nor delay Unplug this machine, breathing for me
The other Sunday, I was feeling low, felt like some where there was more for me. I knew of a revival, going on at a church down the road. So I drove down to lift up my soul.
A Glass Of Wine
A glass of wine, and a dozen tears await me at the end of the day Now that the pot is broken life made out of clay
Why, on such a sun-filled day
would i awake, crying?
did the sun not rise, for me
to claim this day, make it into
that which i choose?
Why must emotions run in transparent
veins, returning to the heart and back
to the tears that fell, leaving only