Missing,
The red.
Something a little like a shiny squirrel.
Once the colour was precious.
Rare.
Glowing.
Proud.
Cherished.
Protected.
Now,
Merely­.
An irksome rodent pest.
Is faded.
Still buzzing.
Skittish,
Scurrying.
Grey.
(C) LIVVI
A loose look at the changing colour of my hair.
Inspired by Matt Chamberlain

Where are you now my lover?
Thinking of you as I twiddle my hair.
You used to do that.
I wonder where you're living now.
The rainbows come the rainbows fade.
Under the shade of the oldest oak tree.
I wonder, do you still think of me?
Expect that you do
You'll never be true.
Truths kept inside.
Your air is in my heart.
You breathed me life.
But now I'm chained up,
Somewhere came along.
Straight from out of nowhere and stole the ruddy key.
Ships of dreams.
Grounded.
Somewhere there's a sandy beach.
No more love my man,
My love, you're out of reach.
Grit in my eyes.
That's my excuse!
Whirling winds.
Cut diamonds hard and sharp.
Stranded on sand dunes.
Listening to tunes.
Nothing left to do.
Never to get over you.
Perhaps I don't want to.
Maybe I should.
(c)LIVVI

Flying reindeer slays
birds crash into holly bush
red man bearing gifts.
(C) LIVVI

See saw.
It's off to war.
Just saw it on the telly.
Now the world will shake like jelly.
Exercising mighty powers.
How horrible.
How unkind.
We don't want war, I think you'll find.
War brings misery to innocents.
Perhaps, something's not making sense.
****** politicians.
Can't afford to feed our families.
Bombs and missiles.
****** vile.
(c)LIVVI

Life belongs to Monday morning.
Still, I'm haunted by Sunday teatime.
Scones in the parlour at the back of the house.
With mamma and poppa and sweet baby Jayne.
Toasted crumpets together,and drank hot  cups of tea.
The crumpets were toasted upon a huge open fire.
Jayne had been sleeping in the cot by the door.
Too young to eat crumpets and scones, she's not allowed tea.
The baby still sleeping remains in the parlour.
It's warmer in there.
 
And so to the drawing room with round rosewood table.
Nature of the cloth thereupon changed.
It's marked with the symbols of a, b and c.
A painted on canvass that ends with a zee.
It's crimson, edged with gold.
In the centre a YES  and a NO.
Centrally placed a wine glass.
 
Knock knock on the door.
Now there are five.
Tonight the table may come alive.
They're hoping.
A standard lamp, rather dated stood in the corner.
Had a scarlet shade with golden tassels.
 
They sit round the table.
It's just what they did.
Fingers on glass.
They're calling out.
"Is anybody there?"
The room becomes chilled.
Atmosphere stifling.
Glass moves around the circle.
A...R...I....E.....L.....spellbinding.
'Twas the spirit of the dark poet,Plath.
Darkness from sorrow, no more tomorrow.
Another spirit  in attendance.
Takes Sylvia by the hand.
Into the light, escorted by guide.
Goodbye sorrowed poet.
Walked into the light.
Goodnight.
Sleep tight.
(c) Livvi MMCV

Etched spicy words on squares of glass.
A little bit cathartic.
Release the words of fiery flies.
The world may read with perfect eyes.
Creeping increase in temperature,
Freedom of letters,
Immature.
None can see or feel these words,
Dispatched on rise in Celsius.
A puddle in a pile of dust.
One thing is that, of that I'm sure.
(c)LIVVI