Joshua Bosworth

As I look down upon myself
From a line of three
All hanging in our metal frames
We wonder what I’ll be
...

“An idyll is a nature poem”,
She stares blankly at me,
“An Idyll Is a Nature Poem”,
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I can feel it
traces left there
when I lift my hand
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Smile, I Can Exist

My destinies Author
has no alter...
...

Eight sides on bottom the top is round
And when it’s struck it makes a sound
High in pitch, but sweet in tone
It’s not quite clear why it’s alone
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Idyll of The Pelican far away from sea
It’s that earthy smell again, reconciles me
To the dirt that’s on my feet and under bended knee.
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Blinded I that I am
blindfolded by God
Collected I Am
with the crippled and odd
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From The Fountainhead there comes forth water
Guided by its stone gray spotter
Times are fair and the stream in air
Possesses beauty oh so rare
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I first wrote this poem as an intro to a frame story, relating the travels of a philosopher.


There is a tale I wish to tell to you,
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Further up the river shall we go
The tangled trees above we mirror below.
Throwing rocks, watching as the ripples spread
Into our lives. The thoughts within our head,
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Always the river flows downstream
I've read your note, know what you mean
for even as I held you tight
my body felt the chill of night
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Wherefore is death a villian
and why is it so hated
it's but an anagram
to which we are all fated.
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A cancer of the lungs,
A murmur of the heart
Theres one he can't control
and one he didn't start
...