I watch you write,  
your pen flowing like a river,  
each word a current
that pulls me under.  
I am ensnared in your story,  
captivated and lost
in the beautiful, broken
and hurting depths of you.

©️Lizzie Bevis

You read my poetry,
then turned away,  
as if the words
had nothing to say.  
Each line was a pulse,
it was a part of me,  
yet you drift on past,
too blind to see  
that my verses ache,
hoping to be heard,  
yet silence lingers,
louder than each word.  
The ink may fade,
but my feelings remain,  
as I laid my heart bare,
was it all in vain?

©️Lizzie Bevis

In a quiet room
where muses play,  
words weave together,
throughout the day.  
With ink as a river,
thoughts flow and engage,  
each stanza a spark
igniting the page.  
Rhythms and rhymes
dance freely in the mind,  
as a canvas of feelings
creatively applied.  

©️Lizzie Bevis

With every step,  
hold me close,  
as desire lights
our intense fire.
My beating heart  
will seek and find,  
your leading soul,  
body and mind.  

©️Lizzie Bevis

Why do I dare to sing
this melody, overused and
claimed by millions of
others, with voices nearly
interchangeable but barely off,
imperceptibly so, just a dash
too much of cinnamon, not that
you’d ever know, but still
I steal these hand-me-down
words, chasing the horizon only
to retreat back to the
well-worn reef?

Cold walls rise up and ring around
and close in to keep at bay.
Blow off the roof with a thunderclap sound,
then soar off and fly away.

Go push your way through

the forest, to the fortress --


and set yourself free!

my greatest secret
none of this was planned
for decades I've been
busking it, hoping no one
will spot my inadequacies

I made a beautiful thing
but it died for an uncaring world
looking for commercial beauty
a fast track to the stars
big houses fast cars
the gem was lost for what it was
a time and a moment passed
lost seconds after it was born
never stood a chance, buried forever
in the graveyard of could have been

we all have a spark
a burn to make a mark
sometimes we are seen
in the darkness of creativity
sentenced to the madness
of looking for the ultimate thing
others fade like shooting stars
beauty seen once, then forgotten
in the next meteor shower
some never bright enough
for even the darkest night
are you with me brother
we die and the sky won't cry
even for our most tenebrous sins