Biography of Maylee Bossy
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
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
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
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
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
Darling, my soles are worn And I can't go further Baby my jeans are torn Can you kiss it better?
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
Landscape Of An Aging Woman
You are a world of beautiful. The landscape that is your body a wealth of untouched forest surrendering to miles of sandless beach,
It's always around February when I start thinking about lemons and these thoughts rip open my wounds that healed over the year
The Missing Element
What would life be without the silence in the sun flaring and wakening heat in your oiled skin Or the moon pulling back the sheets so that starfish can feel the kiss of your hands
The Missing Element
What would life be without the silence in the sun
flaring and wakening heat in your oiled skin
Or the moon pulling back the sheets
so that starfish can feel the kiss of your hands
What would life be without cool waters
slipping over my tongue and all the words caught in my throat
never sliding their way into your seashell ears