Beside the river,
Straw in hat,
Sketching visions from my mind,
Merging them, with that I see.
I sip my whine deliberately,
Always moaning,
That's just me.
In front of this tiger's eye,
A dancing streak of fish doth fly.
In the sunlight glinting,
Against the sun my eyes be squinting.
Sat on the checked rug a flick of the wrist,
There went that bug!
I turn,
Dreaming I'm kissing you,
Guess the truth of the matter is maybe I'm missing you!
(c) LIVVI

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

It swallowed a dictionary..
It did, it was a hexagonal lexicon,
It got stuck in the oesophagus of the great white whale.
He choked and choked deciding that he needed to clear his throat,
It was getting quite distressed,
Poor thing.
Threw him a packet of PPIs (proton pump inhibitor's,
(Rennie or the like)
Have you ever witnessed a whale ***** before?
The whale's throat was rather sore.
Sea dogs and skippers hold on to your hats.
There's a tidal wave coming and that's about that!
Watching the whale a rumbling and grumbling,
"Below decks the captain said"
The vessels rocked and rolled,
Tossed on the swell,
Good gracious me,
What a terrible smell.
The sea subsided,
The whale felt better,
The crew came on deck.
No need to get wetter.
The sea dogs all shivered as they looked at their boat.
The paint was all stripped off from the juices as noted.
Needed repainting saved them a job.
Gastric juice of the whale had finished the task.
Sick whales are most useful at times,
Especially in one of my little rhymes.
(C) LIVVI

The lights flick out worldwide.
Factory of building fear.
El presidente is fearsome.
Adversary to normal folk.
The duck man is coming.
No joke.
My boots are quaking more than me.
Deep inhalation.
Crying freedom.
Begging and squealing.
Like many more than three little pigs.
The house that's white is filled with fright.
God help us.
Time to start praying.
(c)LIVVI

Empathy,
Not sympathy,
Bright,
Not dull.
Caring,
Not scary.
The love dove beating her wings.
In her beak only beautiful things.
Poppies,
Not lilies, nor nettles.
Poppies thrown overland as memorial of battles from the lands before.
We are peaceful of perfect heart.
We love our world so dressed with art and creativity.
Let our planet live and breathe.
She is glorious,
Sustainable life.
We love the world,
The world and her wife.
(c) LIVVI

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

Bird flirting with death.
In a deadly dance on the train line.
Train coming.
Woo woo,
Fly past.
And I find myself musing towards immortal fantasy.
My imagination picks up images that no man shall ever see.
Precious images won't be the death of me, nor the tiny little bird,
Sweet,
Dicing with death on the line that's electric.
He'll live to see another day,
Wahey.
(c)LIVVI