There comes a time in all folks life,
when special love becomes bespeak.
Futurity takes over.
To live alone to live to die alone.
What future do we have and why?
Furnish..me,
A trusted cabinet.
An old oak dresser.
A rocking chair,
made out of rattan.
Tatty around the edges.
Sat under the window.
Where the sunlight shone through.
The blinds were half open.
A strange shade of puce.
It's cold and reliable.
That tatty old chair.
A body and soul, both sat in there.
Stranded in time.
A comfortable cushion.
Sat perching.
Silently sitting.
Call the mortician.
(C) Livvi

It is the evening of my darkest day,
The day after yesterday,
Preceding tomorrow,
When reality bites with jagged teeth,
Oh my goodness is this real,
Hopefully bring no more sorrow,
A fantasy, no big deal,
Or so she thought,
A question upfront without admission,
Only omissions,
Admitted in rash moments of indiscretion slips,
In a weird weir of tumbling issues,
As tears fall bi-laterally,
Caught in fragile cobwebs mesh,
Sticky,  so they can't escape!
Poetry is his, she is mine also,
Have craved all day for a room,
In which I can deposit my pleasure,
Sharing gifts is our greatest asset,
Him, in mode of ebony,
Me, bathed with angels lights,
Normal MO,
Such a joy to behold,
At the moment roles reversed!
Livvi Kent June 2013

They crept around under the eaves.
Weevils and bugs, within their thatched rugs.
The old wooden roof, all damp and so miserable.
Covered dense dressed in ivy leaves.
The tears of the rain, poured out their emotions.
While the wind cries Mary and swears sweet devotions.
Over the thatch and down through the cracks.
It's weight did increase, was the hold of the rain.
Cold and wet,  it so suffered it's pain.
The torture of the village thatch,
where birds nests live and sweet chicks hatch.
Hearing nothing, but the  incessant drips as they crashed to the ground.
(c) Livvi

I strolled along the street one day, A young guy with a dog said "hey,
"Missus can you help me, please",
Looked so gaunt,
Leaned in his craggy doorway,
While waiting for some luck to fall his way,
A fallen angel walked his way...smiled wryly, "say I say, what can i do for you this day?"
"scoop me up and take me home, I so desire to see your throne".
"Had enough of mortal life, lost my children, lost my wife"
I have nothing left at all,  I have a dog but, have no ball.
He is my one and only friend...I know on him I can depend.
The fallen angel picked him up, piercing his heart with a dagger of ice,
He bled inside ,his heart was drained , so only his poor dog remained.
His one and only  wish he  gained,
The dog was taken to my heart and still today, we'll never part.
I was that fallen angel, that took his heart, that day!
Never ever punished because of my way!
He got his desire that fate filled day,
His wish was granted and his good dog had it's day!!
Obviously, this is a piece of pure fantasy, that came to me after reading Chris's  poem, which is pure excellence as usual.
Copyright Livvi Kent 10/02/2013.

She is woman.
Perfect form in porcelain.
Hands that move with tangerine passion.
Sunflowers.
Wallflowers.
Forget her nots.
Painting pictures.
Dot to dot.
Her garden further grows.
Lone green dot, to the tip of her nose.
As her paintbrushes tickle paradise.
Rolling rhymes complete her image.
Christened with her autograph.
(c)LIVVI

Farewell my Friend!

Carnal is the knowledge of one who once was.
A poets lust filed in defilement.
Creature sometimes vile.
Deflated football kicked when down.
A pile of dust laid by the wayside.
Tragedy in life of sorrow.
Once was us.
Now no tomorrow.
Apart from two no-one knew what had gone around.
In sweet release for scratch in time.
No others knew what we had found.
Now you are gone I still go on survival of the fittest.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

"I am the living room.
I have a soul of my own.
I see comings and goings.
I've see children born and growing.
Spreading wings and flying away.
I've seen parties full of such debauchery.
You know I feel you when you enter.
I sense loneliness when you are not in.
Sometimes I see the dog.
She sneaks in when the family are out.
The *** plants are lovely, but they don't make conversation.
I watch the T.V. and realise how boring life is.
The old man he was laid in state.
Awaiting transportation to the nether  world.
Along they come carrying pots of paint rejuvenating and freshening.
Carried in the stroke of a brush.
"Oh heaven be felt."
(C) Livvi

One minute past midnight on the first day of Jan.
Was born a baby girl.
Six pounds two.
With eyes of sparkling sapphire blue.
Delicate,
Crystal skin and a mop of brown curls,
Blessed with cherry rosy cheeks.

On the first day of February.
At quarter past two.
She took her first faltering steps toward you.
Wobbled,
Fell landed on her bottom with a bump.
Knocked her head
Oops a lump.

The first of March.
She had a ball.
Her first day at school.
Didn't like it much.
Missed her mum.
School wasn't cool.

The first of April, she was no more the fool.
Became a teenager,
Adult school.
She liked it a little bit more.
Found friends.

May the first her bubble burst.
Found her first boyfriend.
Went to the Imax.
Played let's pretend.
Pretend that they were adults.

June came in.
Her love had grown.
With emotions like she'd had never known.
Everything tickled and felt really sweet.

By July they were wed.
Happy ever after.
Or so it was said.

In August,
To them,
Twins were born.
A lad and a lass.

September came.
Her joints began to ache.
Her once shiny hair streaked with grey.
Wrinkles crept across her face.
Still with laughter lines, ingrained.

October carried grandchildren.
Life, bought them to her door.
Who, but her could ever want more.

November came.
Her hair was white.
She really couldn't leave her chair.
Her husband passed.
He left her low,
Feeling abandoned.
All alone.

End of December.
Christmas came.
Christmas went.
Twas the end of December.
She passed.
Breathed her last.
January the first bought her a funeral.
Cost a pretty penny.
Well spent.
Buried beside her darling.
At the crest of the hill.
And so the sun went down!

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Enigma
What will I do on my last day on earth?
Will it be tragic?
Will it be magic?
Will it be accidental?
Will it be mental?
At the end of my life, what dreams did I hold?
What dreams did I meet?
How many demons did I meet, greet and defeat?
Not going mad or  becoming demented, just had a strange flash on the bus,
Listening to a dude reading loud and proud from his Koran,
got really quite scared as terrorists attack in defence of their religion it seems....
I sit listening to his chants, rambling, his mumbles,
Wondering if I have a chance of romance when my heart is so cold, will I be alone as I take my last breath!
So as I get older my dying day I await
I'm not really feeling terribly great,
One thing for sure, a thought I adore, the chances are I won't see my own dying day!
Well, I hope not anyway!
Copyright Olivia Kent 29/03/2013.

Want to dance like Cinderella.
Price of shoes uncertain now.
At 52, my feet get sore.
Glass slippers may splinter.
Slice my tootsies to the core.
Can't track down any princes.
Charming or otherwise.
Prince charming's just a fantasy.
Would be bored with him for sure.
Charming is a creepy ******,
As if you didn't know.
My covers are calling me.
Know, where I want to go.
Back to bed.
Need to be warm.
Bed alone.
Nothing but, coffee for company.
Ma quilt is continental.
Voulez vous couchez avec moi ces soire?
Bonjour!
(c)LIVVI

Emptied out his car.
Driving fast.
Driving far.
Distant shores.
Lots more scores.

Playing games.
Women's names.
Always the same score.
Just candy wrapped ******.

Your ship sailed.
Baby, just to let you know.
Your name's nailed cross my heart.
And boy you gotta go.
You're gone.
We're done.
You're undone.
To you my sweet.
Women are just candies.
In frilly dressed up boxes.

Playing games.
Women's names.
Always the same score
Just candy wrapped ******.

Biting bullets.
Cheerleaders.
Birdfeeders.
Dolls in dresses.
Peachy tresses.
Was your fault.
You opened the vaults.
Deserved just what you got.

Playing games.
Women's names.
Always the same score.
Just candy wrapped ******.

Face up to it sugar.
You ain't the only one
Women ain't for using.
This gal's selective
Deleted from her heart.
Removed him from her mind.
(c) Livvi

In every wilderness be life.
Washed with gorse and heather's touch.
Hiding 'neath scratchy patches.
Avoiding winter's vile chill.
Mini-beasts of winter feast,
They're fighting for survival.
Wilderness living.
A bird flies high,
Scaling from the firmament with  sharp open eyes.
Very keen.
The poorly concealed creature dies.
(C) LIVVI

She is a little spirit,
her head escapes as springtime flowers,
only for her,
she is not dark, as midnight skies,
as she speaks the truth and tells no lies.
Her words are just a hobby,
a,not at workplace occupation.

She is what you see,
when her words you read,
a fantastic imagination.
She wants you to see what she physically doesn't,
but in her brain she does create,
almost a work of art,
She is almost the Mona Lisa,
an enigmatic work of art.
with a pen that's fueled by rocket fuel.
showing empathy and sympathy,
and clear understanding.
She wants you to be able to appreciate her weird words,
the ones she generates
To feel them,
to see them.
to breathe them.,
maybe, even drown in them,
metaphorically of course.

She never was a lunatic,
baying skywards,
at the crescent moon,
She has the sun in her hair,
and care in her eyes,
A soul filled up with passion,
as ink spots,
being ejected from her purple pen.
(C) Livvi

Had a crush.
It broke my heart.
That was when I was twelve or thirteen
Strange really.
His name was Stephen Timewell.
That's all I can recall.
I don't know what became of him.
Those people known as parents, thought he was bad news.
Maybe he was maybe he wasn't.
A memory, insignificant.
I know not what became of him.
We walked on hillsides together in deepest darkest Dorset.
Corfe Castle sponsored walk with fizzy pop in plastic bottles.
Sweating sandwiches and bits of fruit.
How cute!
If I saw him now I probably wouldn't like him much.
I remember a blue eyed dark haired rogue, never looking for the local lord, never looking to be a lady.
Much more down to earth.
(c)Livvi

Emotions are blown out of the water.
Upsurge of nuclear war.
Cold.
Let the wind blow.
Causation of chill.
Neglect in the whole.
Never ending abyss of emptiness.

Who caused this blatant travesty.
This justice undeserved.
Rough as glass-paper.
Ripped at skin.

Walked through sunshine.
Died in rain.
Cry once.
Cried twice.
Then he cried again.
'Jesus Christ.'
He left here only pain.
The man who left business unfinished.
Paint his skin yellow and let him bleed.
Be wary for sure.
He'll do it again!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Ribbons. (Very Dark)

Take the silken ribbon from my hair.
Wrap it tight around my neck.
For on cold nights of loneliness.
In darkness.
My cold body sits.
My neck bruised in compassion.
Once there in sight.
Was once there in mind.
There for company.
Seek and thou shall find my friend.

Embalmed behind a sullen smile.
Austere.
Such quiet company.
In dignified silence sat.
My mouth stitched shut.
Calling out is not aloud.

I feel you watching me.
While in eternity I sleep.
A presence around me.
I feel that you want me.
Caught by skeins of royal blue.
Oxygen depleted.
In a tapestry of captivity.

But I am not yours.
Only God can set me free.

(I have no  organised religion, I am agnostic. The last line…just seemed to fit.
I am a Robert Browning fan and a Poe fan. Hence the darkness!).

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Violence grabbed me, pushed me around, assaulted my ears.
You made me crazy.
Staggered up in a blind rage.
Decided to put an end, to this vile situation.
Left it intensive care, the ****** alarm that got in my hair.
Terminated its existence, for a little while.
Gave it a shock of CPR, I charged it up again.
Tomorrow, cosset it I shall.
For it will be my day off and a good rest one and all!
(C) LIVVI X

Watching the truffleumps down by the sea,
With their mommies and daddies, they're running free.
Having fun.
They love to play.
They wore swimming suits made from green string and lace.
The brightest thing on their bodies was the smile on their face.
They paddled in rock pools.
Fished for wriggly shrimps.
They put them in buckets made out of bright yellow plastic.
Those truffleump imps.
Just by the water, mom saw some bright fish.
The truffleumps went in for a swim.They put the shrimps back in their pool.
To take them home would be unkind.
The sound of the bassoon whistled out.
Telling the truffleumps, it's soon time for tea.
They picked up their towels and buckets and spades.
Home they went, drinking pink lemonade.
Past the houses.
Past the shops.
For today the truffleump day stops.
The truffleumpty trees were loaded with donuts.
So mom, dad and truffleumps got off the bus.
Baskets filled up with donuts for tea.
Heading home they go at the end of the day.
(C) LIVVI

I arose in the morning.
Grabbed a coffee with both hands.
It's cold this morning.
Coffee helps.
My hands are thawing out.
Went and got a porridge.
Hell I need my morning oats.
From me the nurses point of view.
Those oats in the morning.
Will  help to keep your body functioning well inside.
(C) Livvi

A weekend of chasing snails over the garden gate.
A never ending stream of work, fell from a pretty pen.
Indecorous facts of undressed penance.
The woman needs to rest in peace.
Oh deary me.
Or maybe dreary me.
There's too much for this girl to do.
Tap tap, rock, rock.
leans over the desk.
All this work is rather mean.
Emptied my drawers, found all that was lost.
A little amendment.....one hell of a cost.
and so I carry on.
Added a few new bits to boot.
Out with the printer and huge old box files.
She breathes insignificant, but some how still smiles.
Much better to have kept up to date.
You know what I mean mate?
(C) Livvi

I care not about being enemies,
for I did nothing wrong
I wanted not war.
Hell I repeat ,
I did nothing wrong.
Friendship fell because you loved.
Allowed your heart to be caught again!
And you know you did!

Friendship is important in all life good and true.
She was the woman of great intentions.
In flower beds she wrote her name.
She was wizened, but wiser.
Wiser with each passing day.

So if enemies we have to be so.
Then so let it be it my fu**ed up friend.
I did not **** you.
Despite the fact you asked me too.
Not part of my agenda.

Goodbye.
God bless may you find peace.
In writes in mind and pen.
And angel words.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

In a doctrine of compassion.
My great heart was ended.
Golden soul on a flaxen hair.
My soul.
Myself defended!

Friends of such importance.
Should not go on defence.
Anger bit like demon seed.
She now sits on the fence.
And hand of truth extended.

Contact needs resumption.
Well said from you my friend.
Without such rash presumption.
Presumption was destructive.
Caused a drowning pool.

The fiery tongues did lash.
Between us two..hell on earth a mighty clash.
Two pens determined to ****.
No malice aforethought.
Never ever will!
I forgive thee as thee forgave me.


Thank you for your poem.
My friend.
Always to be!
Dear friend!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

She roared in on the back of a lion,
sipping cocktails of conscience.
Sat thinking of wall flowers and such mundane things,
as sharks circled the dance floor,
dark eyes on stalks,
they're assessing their prey.
As octopuses their arms keeping warm,
wrapped around the form of unsuspecting suckers who accept a token drink.

She crept out in a minicab,
somewhat the worse for wear,
sneaked into her bedroom,
flopped on to her needed bed.
Slept until she woke.

Feeling just a little puce.
slightly purple but not really brown.

She let wisdom take the lead,
as the day progressed,
was just at bit of befuddled, muddled fun,
The back bar full of biker's,
roaring more than wild lions,
to the echoes of the rock,
so heavily metallic,
the front bar had the Irish chaps.
trying hard to compete with the back bar noise,
it was ideal for her,
a rock chic at heart,
but she loves the Irish stuff to,
A wholly delightful crazy day.

Afternoon ended with a bang before six,
the bikers left and she did too,
the queen of solo got the bus,
toddled home and shared a curry with her daughter,
just what a mother and daughter ought to do.

my birthday written as a poem for you !
(C) Livvi

Strangled by darkness.
It's eating us up.
Like a huge tooth monster.
The enamel on it's teeth are glowing at them.
In tones of bright red.
Scarlet maybe.
Wages of sin are death and they're dying.
It's  Wednesday.
There are no sparkles.
Flat lights and flood lights.
Walking on water, cruising the pitch.
Only ice bergs we see.
We see them, they're melting.
They're wasting away.
The blades they are sharper.
Switch blades that flip.
A ripping yarn in the outhouses and barns.
Garden sheds and hoes.
Pretty maids, standing in rows, as if in nursery rhymes.
Melting ice bergs.
A sign of the times.
(c)Livvi

Controlled by a Dream!

Went off with the madman
The madam did go.
In an element of control he came.
Dragged her to his home.
A cave,
Somewhere dark.
Very cold.
Only way in.
The same way out.
He lived in the back of beyond.
He swore love undying.
While her brain he controlled.

They dined on grubs,
while they laid on their rugs.
With the bonus of somebody's discarded hard pizza.
On top of a pair of old itchy cushions.
Grabbed at their tatty grey scratchy blankets.
Edged in navy blue.

Tried to leave the madman in his hiding hole.
He said 'babe you're going nowhere'.
His voice full of control.

Her friends in the hovel of brothel did warn her.
There are nuts in them there hills.
Don't go out alone.
Would she listen,
Not a chance.

So here she found herself.
Dining on mice.
With the madman, who lived in the cave on the hill.
She wanted to leave.
Never will.

As in her food another tablet.
Eat my dear, eat you will.
It's just another sleeping pill.
'For you honey, you will never leave of your own free will'.
Wanted you then.
I want you still.
Escape attempts are truly futile.
No-one around for miles and miles.

Then my phone rang.
Sat up with a jolt.
My escape imminent from the otters damp holt.
From a dream mega.
Relaxed and broke free.
Somewhat relieved.
Wrapped myself in my cover.
Went back to sleep!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Who killed the May queen?
Maybe the Jack of diamonds, got confused and shot her through the heart.
Or did she just get tangled in the ribbons of the Maypole?
Did a Mayfly land upon her and kiss her with a toxic sting.
It's only April now, but hell where is the spring.
The rain is pouring passionately down the water spout, putting it all in poetry, the only way I shout,
I moan and groan like the old dear I am, an advert for me, a spot of spam.
Hoping in my heart of hearts that CPR is successful and the May queen will arise, bringing beautiful weather on the wings of butterflies x
(C) LIVVI

My thumb it got stuck in the door.
Hell on earth it's really sore.
It's black and blue.
Tender as a kitten.
Kitten desperate for milk.

Late for work.
In a rash dash.
Trying to get my coffee made.
Thumb wedged tight into the fridge.
Boss came with daily book.
Thumbnail black and blue.
Just look.
Expletives flew out by the score.

Given my sore thumb a name.
I called him Tom.
Cos he's very small and in much pain.
I won't do that again!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Heaven Scent!

Feather tickled my nose.
A memorised aroma.
Carried on an aged soul.

One who once lived.
But was rarely seen.
My father.
Now ascended to join the poets.
In the land.
Where all the poet's past reside.
He died.
He was a poet too.

A patient patient waiting for his cue.
I was his leading lady.
Took him to the room of doom and gloom.
Fears potential of a ***** diagnosis.
Cancer, swear word of the day.

He was clear.
He was delighted.
So with good cheer.
I bade him cheerio.
Just one simple question.
The answer I needed to know.
His body smell of memory fuel.
My Dad the silly fool.
It was his favourite body spray.
Flicked on a memory for me today!


By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Death stands on the corner, picking pockets of the passers by.
Looking for discard sweets and transport tickets.
He's hungry.
Not collections.
He hasn't had a sweet for years.
He pinches a toffee encased in a cellophane wrapper.
You may just see him standing there, sickle leaned against the goth shop wall.
He is a bit cheesed off.
Begging for help.
Unwrapping it impossible.
Bony metacarpals no use.
All he can do when he opens it, is ****.
The shop staff, all willing to help.
A little scared of death himself.
Looked into his hollow sockets.
Oh F**K
The goths loved death and so it was done.
Death had a toffee,
His wish was won!
(c) LIVVI

Sadness!

Sitting in a daydream,
While waiting in the purple haze,
Why on earth can I not escape, this ****** awful maze,
A maze where darkness lives and dies,

All I hear, unearthly hum,
The beating of the kettle drum,
The listeners are screaming on,
Hear an unholy din,

Fighting crazy battle, that I can never win,
No matter how the fighting goes, it runs eternally,
Battle stations flying flags,
Tagged with golden edges,
Balancing precariously on bleeding ledges,

This 50 year old funny bird is learning how to fly,
A fledgling in new flight,
Release my wings to fly away,
Let me live to breathe again,
To escape the mundane dirge,
Release my spirit,
Let me purge,

Trapped in nightmares,
Wanting passion,
Almost more than life itself,
I live the life cos I have too,
Very little choice.

Stuck in situ,
Lost in space,
Put a smile back on my face,
You're probably the only one who can!

(YEP, I'M TALKING ABOUT POETRY)!

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Foundations.
Building on an open spaces
Lead to loosing face.
Architects of pure disaster.
Planning not.
Consider this.
If you actually care.
Sandcastles crumble in the rain.
Melt away in a swirling seas.
Riding the tide.
Decide for once on a solid foundation.
Stop building sand castles time over again.
Sick of creating silica sandcastles .
Sandcastles wash away in the raindrops of time
Never stops.
Drips and drops.
Can't stop.
Wishes.
(c) Livvi

It was something,
a sight to be seen,
the day the bride turned up in black,
the groom turned up in blazing red,
the bridesmaids all wore ****** white,
the ladies all held bouquets,
twisted from a combination,
of Venus fly traps,
and wire with barbs,

A man who looked like Satan,
good looking,
suave,
full up with sophistication,
conducted the unholy service,
smiling,
his black eyes were beaten,
blue,
bloodless,
airless,
the order of service,
was written in blood,
and from it,
he read with a fearsome roar,

He turned,
pronounced them man and wife,
and proceeded to cut,
their throats with a knife,
Dragged to the reception,
still barely living,
a little bloodied,
but breathing,
VNV Nation, spilled the words of Beloved,
and they stepped right into hell,
on their wedding day,
one hell of a day.
(C) Livvi

A woman is full of sensitivity, ingenuity,passion, smiles, momentous special memories.
A nest builder as a sparrow is.
A warbler in the shower.
An irritating pigeon.
She's a vulture full of culture
When she scavenges the sales.
A mother clucker she she can be...sorting out her offspring's tea.
She fights many battles single handed.
Level headed sometimes.
Today the eagle landed.
Been here and there and everywhere,
Fell from grace a million times.
As a woman tumbled from the nests of childhood brood.
A phoenix revitalized spreads her wings.
She's on the way.
(c)Livvi

Today I took time out on my way home.
I sat on a pavement by Southampton Central Station.
I missed the bus home.
Talking to a homeless chap
I started talking to him
You guys all know me.
What are you like?
I hear you say.
He was straight, he said, "I am an alcoholic".
Good on him for honesty...and no.
To those of you who actually know me in the real world.
He is not, nor ever will be my boyfriend.
Had enough of  those described as societal dregs.
We talked for about 20 minutes.
I told him I was a nurse and a poet.
He asked me to read to him, which me being me did.
I know it doesn't surprise you
I'm shockingly kind and just a little bit stupid.
He was mesmerized by my words.
I got to the last line.
He thanked me for making his day brighter.

And on that last line.
I hope you all had a great day.
I did.
I got a brand new granddaughter.
Welcome to the world.
It's a joy to be alive x
(C) LIVVI
I read FOREST OF ANGELS to him.
My new granddaughter is really sweet and my grandsons all blow my mind **

Down the hillsides we stroll.
It's so very cold.
Ice bites the fingers.
The heart that's ablaze.
A hawk projects her image 'pon the skyline a glow.
Look at the sky sending pictures of snow.
Not snowing yet, we must not forget.
Snow's on her way by the end of the day.
Home we must away.
To sit by the fire, ablaze in the hearth.
Before the blizzard of cruelty assaults mother earth.
Supplies we have many.
They're stashed in the larder.
We purchased of plenty afore the weather became harder.
Standing on the peak at the top of the world, be a stag full of antlers.
They are weighing him down.
Tis only mine to wonder, where he doth go,
To stay safe and warm from the assailing snow.
Sanctuary now for me and thee.
Inside our refuge.
Where the evils of winter have visible charm.
Inside all cosy protected from harm.
(C) LIVVI

Never ever date a lady poet.
With such imagination sparkling in her eyes.
Don't ever love a poetess.
With bands of roses round her head.
For she'll throw your life in turmoil.
You will never forget her.
Her with words of tempered steel.
Will state out loud just how she feels.

She will not want to marry you.
She wants not anyone.
For deep within the gift of words this widow's truly spun.
Should you win her heart.
You must keep it safe till both grow old.

Be bold if she inspires you.
Igniting true love fires.
Carried by words in bolts of lightning.
Hear her words as as thunder ringing.
Afore those eyes that read.

A fire that only true love feeds.
Compliment her on her choice.
The woman with the written voice.
In dulcet tones of silence, a writ.
She will pick up her pen.

Write once,
Write twice, then only she will write again.

Take in hand a poetess.
With her cruise the universe.
Never let true love be terse.
You may find that she pens a verse.
She's not averse to love.

Her,
She only dreams of heaven.
Twas lost love that made her write.
From many years ago once lost.
The beautiful poetess.
Secrets of pain hide.
Hid behind those brightly sparking.
Twinkling eyes!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

On the dance floor wild party over,
Only remnants left behind,
Tangled strings and lace ribbons fell,
The happy clack deceased,
Final footsteps died,
Fabric limbs, wooden shoes discarded,
Redundant in neglect,
Painted smiles and yellow hair,
Created from wool that died'
Marionettes at life's end,
Little lady puppeteer,
Came of age,
Lost her innocence!

Solitary puppet cries alone,
Final curtain call been and gone,
For Columbine,
Without the puppeteer his true love is lost,
Chased her for years from the theatre of dreams,
He has to play solo from now on,
For his little love she has gone,
He'll never be able to get out of his box again.
Poor sweet soul!

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Hair long as red as the mane of the lion.
Divine feline eyes.
Night time glints.
Sparkles.
The lady lioness.

She had kittens.
They're reared on milk bottle contents and pink champagne.
They swing round her hems,
They growl and moan.
Their neighbours they bother.
Driving their brothers and sisters insane.
Talons softer and shorter than mums, just a little bit.
Louder mouths until they feed upon the maternal lioness, who's purse they disrepectfully drain.
(C) Livvi

Don't Cry ! (From Him to Her)

Don't cry said he.
Tears fell as summer rain.
For you.
You are just princess
I adore you greatly.
My sweetly scented lemon lady.
Filled will bubble and sugar spice.

My queen she is.
She is my queen.
The power that flows from my pen.
Into my heart, then out again.
For my queen is elegant.
Flighty and moody.
Vile and violent at times.

I am her king of kings.
From diamond mines.
Where darkest carbon makes it's own designs.
Many facets of her diamonds.
She's is an emotion fueled woman fueled by war.
Loaded with violence.
She is often a *****.
My darling princess you know the score.


By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

SANCTUARY
Remember the harsh winter beach?
Where days of summer succulence once did reach.
Now forlorn, carried away on primordial storm.
Masses of shingle inter-mingle with piles of sodden sand.
Oscillating waves tickle toes of summer now in suspension.
Caught on windswept winter’s current termination.

Seas’ slimy hair washed up on the shoreline.
Now lingering lonely.
Awaiting her great escape.
Another wild ride on the tide.
When the next storms awaken the spring.


By ladylivvi1

© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

First Light Love!

Morning darling,
I love you,
These words I long to hear,
Early morning's wonder light,
A kiss as first light warms me,
Rescues me from past love harm,

As you snuggle into me,
You locked my heart,
You locked her tight,
Keep her always close in sight,
Maybe not in vision,
But in the recess of your mind,

Trust my wonder's sparkling aura,
Think perhaps you may adore her,
Her being me,
Not dashing free,
Skipping as a sweet treat child,
Bless me with your kisses,
Let them run for miles and miles,

I'm wedged in heaven,
Inside your arms,
So safe, but making no demands,
Awaiting open prison meeting,
Guess what!
I'm on remand,
Only got to wait till June,
Then together we can surf the moon!

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

In a vague and hazy love song,
We're dancing in the dark,
Where flower bands and garlands,
Are skipping round my head,
Where fairies kiss me on the ears,
To chase away my tragic fears,
To make wild magic of their own,
In wilderness land,
Such luscious bounty found.

Lain in the park under the oak,
Looking at the sky,
You and I, Thee and me,
Laid beneath that ancient tree,
The bees were crowding round the bark,
Having their own sweet party in the park,
The sky was bright,
Came out of dark,

Wandered through the wild garden,
Beauty seen before my eyes,
A combination poppies and veg,
All laid in the flower bed,
Foxes left their gloves behind,
So hum drum people can find,
Some very strange and weird plants,
So beautiful I'm tranquilised,
In this garden of romance!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Get out of my house she screamed,
wasn't at all a bit like it seemed,
behind him,
she slung his carrier bags,
an old sleeping bag,
and a bundle of rags,
after a row,
silly cow,
she said,
you're not welcome here.
was just a stupid row,
and she's not  really a silly cow.

That night,
the evening fell into disquiet,
the once loving moments had turned into a riot.
dragged his carriers behind him as he walked down the street,
tripping over his muddled up feet,

Night fell, so did he,
In much distress a bloodied mess,
landed on homeless spikes,
landed hard,
landed fast,
anchored to the spot,
poor sod,
not terribly long,
but that poor fellow,
well he punctured a lung,
A passing friend,
noticed his distress,
called the paramedics to come and assess,

Carted him off to the hospital,
the one that still had an A+E,
stuffed in a chest drain,
a little more pain,
and then,
along came the brief,
gave the company grief,

Received a big payout,
went home to the wife,
you remember the one,
who first gave him the strife.
(C) Livvi