Melby Writes

02/21/2026

Today I met a lady...
My desire was to formulate her in words... but I lacked the verbosity because her pain was immutable... her voice was like velvet curtains... despite the tear within her reality, her poise was not haunched... her silver tresses bespoke of her youth... yesteryear bespoke of her loneliness and the bygone times were etched in her clay... her demeanor was so delicate and deliberate but Alice chased white rabbits and mad hatter's only brought her more pain... so my thoughts meandered because tombstones are animated until they're dead, I was slain by her truth.

-Melby Writes

01/15/2026

It certainly begs the question…
It is no longer a public bench
It is a place to observe death
Forever immortalized a graven lot

Too public for flowers
Poetic lamentation is most welcome
And to whom do we lament, none

01/15/2026

This

01/15/2026

My name is Reginald Dwayne Betts. As a teenager in solitary confinement, poetry saved my life. With my sixth collection of poems, Doggerel, I've committed to sharing poems with the world.

01/07/2026

10/14/2025

“Until death, all defeat is psychological.”

09/17/2025

Something about this —le sigh —resonates

07/24/2025

And we shall
Lay our bones bare
Offering every iota
Of marrow— grit
Sorrow— joy
Without judgement

Consume where you will
May the anatomical systems
Masticate within their true capacities

So that you may gander and grasp—
Introspectively gather
Every word

-Melby Writes

Erich Buschmann 📸 👉👈

07/20/2025

Dear Poet,

Bleeding on paper
is bleeding on paper—
however you wish to bleed:
with glee,
or brokenness.

Just bleed.

It is not always
to be understood.
It is to be read,
mulled over,
excavated
and masticated.

It is meant
to permeate,
to resonate,
then dilapidate
everything
one holds true.

And there—
that is when
it nourishes.
And even if one
were to thrive,

you’d subsist
within pages
and cortexes.

-Melby Writes