When my young eyes gazed,
The mind was
Amazed,
For this beholder,
Beauty couldn't be bolder.
But a game was at play,
Which took a while,
For the penny to drop,
Spotting her
Achilles' heel,
Not knowing what to feel,
The pain was so real.
But when love turns sour,
I was no wilting flower.
Getting on with life,
Lessoned the Strife.
Then a peculiar situation did occur,
Brisling the fur.
I was desired, like never before,
But to late,
I'd closed that door.

Your mind is a waiting garden,
and life will give us seeds,
you can sow beautiful flowers
or you can nurture stubborn weeds.

The choice is yours,
to make in a thoughtful wake,
to tend to the delicate blossoms
or let the brambles overtake.

Water the garden with pride,
with thoughts pure and bright,
tear down any climbing doubts
and give way to the sunlight.

For what you will harvest
depends on what you sow,
your garden will flourish
and wisdom will grow.

So nurture each lesson,
and watch the petals unfurl,
in your garden of growth,
with the beauty of your soul.

©️Lizzie Bevis

Once, I loved with abandon,
like a river flowing wild and free,
with no walls,
no doubts,
no questions,
just with pure possibility.

Now love stalks like a savage beast,
and I am weary of it's teeth.
Trust bleeds through
my painful raw wounds
where hope and fear
fester beneath.

Each time I dare to offer
my beaten and weathered heart,
the past denies,
leaving me empty,
and I often wonder
if I will be enough.

Was the river never wanted
by those searching for mere rain?
My heart,
once soft,
now toughened,
guarding carefully against such pain.

©️Lizzie Bevis

The soft wind brings resurrection,
as seeds crack the Earth's waking shell,
and she shrugs off her pale complexion,
while spring's mystery is dispelled.

Cherry blossoms break their silence,
pink confetti pirouettes on the breeze.
After months of cold defiance,
new leaves grace once barren trees.

In murky ponds, frogspawn transforms,
and tadpoles emerge to the spring light.
The weather warms from winter storms,
as days bask in the sun's delight.

This is nature's revolution,
Death in reverse, life is reborn.
In April's retribution,
Faith is restored, and hope adorns all.

©️Lizzie Bevis

Four souls sit cramped with little room,
her arms ache as she pulls each stroke,
the waves swell and grey skies loom,
as her husband complains about the boat.

Her child is sat safely between her feet,
she fights the current, wind and rain.
Her sleeping dog is curled up by her seat,
as her husband whinges of cold and pain.

"Won't you help?" she asks irate,
her voice as steady as each stroke.
He sighs and shifts about his weight,
nearly tipping over the boat.

The water seeps between the boards,
she bails it out with her sore hands,
while he sits there, sighing and hoards
the space while making demands.

"Here," she says, "take this lifevest,
it is the only one we own."
He grabs it quickly without protest,
still wearing his entitled frown.

Her arms are sore, her back aches,
but forward still she toils,
until his complaints crash final waves
as her blood silently boils.

Fuelled by frustration, her spirit strong,
she rows towards the distant shore,
"This weight I've carried far too long,
and I cannot take it anymore."

"The boat's too small," she simply says,
"This load alone is too much to bear."
Her choice is made in the open sea
and she leaves him floating there.

With her child and loyal dog on board
the determined woman pressed on,
and rowed towards the shore
and onwards towards the warmth of home.

©️Lizzie Bevis

I am not here
to wage a war of wills,
I am carrying concerns
too heavy, too still.

Which gather like weights
deep inside my chest,
until my silence
can no longer rest.

Can you hear my voice rising,
as I plot my tactful course,
but you miss the frustration
trembling at its worried source.

I speak out in haste,
as I fear my words will fade,
because these feelings
have been long delayed.

It is not anger which drives
my urgent demands,
but, it is with hope that you
will finally understand.

Through all of this noise,
beneath the strain,
There is a caring soul
that is tired and in pain.

And I am not here
for the victory,
I am just hoping
for some humility.

So please, listen out
for the softness
within my voice,
brevity is my only choice.

I am now desperately trying
to break through,
with hands outstretched,
to talk with you.

©️Lizzie Bevis