Paper Skins - Poetry By Jodde Maree

Paper Skins
Paper Skins
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Jodde Maree


Brussels - Brussels - Belgium


BRUSSELS - June 25, 2018 - PRLog -- Jodde Maree has been writing short stories, poems and lyrics since the age of thirteen. Due to traumatic circumstances she did not have the time to fully focus on writing until, about two months before the publication of this book, when she decided that the time had come for her to express herself through poetry, stories and lyrics writing. A publishing contract offered by Paramount Music was declined as the company requested all copyrights, and Jodde Maree decided to get herself published through an independent publisher.

Jodde Maree grew up in the inner suburbs of Sydney, later on moving to the north of the town. There, she was inspired into creativity by her non-biological mother (an orchestra conductor) who had a profound influence on her creative energy. Through her writing, Jodde Maree intends to address the human condition as, according to her, everyone deserves validation through her words. Words that, she hopes, will resonate in people's inspiration.

Fine Cotton

Her lips are twisting
Trees they grow in wise
Winds so light yet
Guarded by skin
So fine are the words she speaks
They keep my head in movement
I have unleashed a veneer of heaven
Upon porcelain skin so pure
This enhanced ambience
Slowly unravels in complete silence
The fondness of goodbyes
I tied to the clouds and allowed the rain to
Take away fine cotton
Are dresses she wears
In moods of the sky
Deep blue she calls the days
Like the thunder calls the sea
A depth of returning
Drowning in the currents of
Her movements
She is a temperature of
Mild sun
Pulling strands of my hair
Screaming out to her lost ways
As she crawls beneath my eyes
For a place she thought she
It's a modest laughter
Tripping over showers of
Childish beauty beginning
The twilight of her voice gathers the words
I cannot speak
Spoken muse the
Halo of blind riches
Fixed in the end of my sentences
A vision of souls kept
In a cage
Intertwined the woman becomes
A scalpel cutting away the
Hours left behind
By unnoticeable pictures
So ripe in the mind
These hours flood
My time

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Tags:Poetry, Aquillrelle, Jodde Maree
Location:Brussels - Brussels - Belgium
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