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Maylee Bossy Poems
The Lack of Inspiration is Inspiration E...
One touch; One thought; One thought fragment..
A Brief Introduction to My Views on Reli...
There's truth laced in the preachings of every religious man A thread of fact sewn into prayer flags A shred of light in the Qur'an
When Love and Death Are But the Same
I'll do whatever it takes To breathe you in Even if it's the last breath I take
With roots in blood and mire It rose above the city sky Shouting profanities at the unforgiving night
I carried quilt and basket through whispering grass To the patch where no grass grows Just as sunlight bled over the horizon The breeze thrust the quilt into a rolling wave
Fairies and Apple Trees
I can't help but wonder Is this real; Or a figment of my imagination?
A Poet's Soul
A poet's soul never sleeps For sleep would be the death of creativity That which fuels innovation and love making Painting murals on whitewashed walls
It's always around February when I start thinking about lemons and these thoughts rip open my wounds that healed over the year
Sunlight bleeds through forest canopy Slipping between my fingers The daisies glare at me with sympathy When crushed their scent still lingers
Dizzy skies catch drunken eyes Then fade away to black A single flower underneath Falls in concrete cracks
Love Never the Dictator
Sheets draped like a toga I fingered the ancient ruins in your ashtray Imagined it snowing ashes out our window Grass coated grey with innocent flesh
December 17,1903 Man learns to fly Like an owl over the snow In search of meat in which to sink
Nude with Purpose
I have become fat with imagination And outgrown my clothes Hiding myself in material no longer, I want to be exposed as my soul screams
Canada is Calling
I apologize to Paris Canada's calling The Niagara Escarpment Dragging me home by my roots
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The Lack of Inspiration is Inspiration Enough
One thought fragment..
It's enough to spark the flame
Soon becoming a conflagration
Tearing through my veins
And burning at my finger tips
Until I type the
That releases the sparks that day generated
But there is always going to be
That series of uneventful events
Where you can predict the unpredictable,
The inspiration is uninspired,
And previous ideas aren't important
'An idea is only relevant if it is being thought upon'
And every waking morning is an idea,
A flicker ...