Kenny Boudreaux


Mosaic - October 10, 2004

The poem is a flying hornet

Buzzing in the mind

Its hive is full of buried thoughts

Both negative and kind

It's sting stirs up clever ideas

Just waiting to be said

It's busy searching for something

That's floating in your head

Soaring wildly in all the wits

He discovers cursed words

And turns them completely around

Into pure and clean verse

When it comes time to set it free

And create measured rhyme

It releases all of your thoughts

And reads as sweet as lime