The scars of battle,
The Wounds of War,
Fallen warriors bleed
A river to red

But when a man
Is hurt, not by swords
But by consequences
Of love, of life

It's not blood that pours,
But tears of ink
Into the crumbled tapestry
Of a poet's heart

and I was left alone with their screams
and my imagination
and the pines were full of sap
and the wind blew gently
and the clouds did what clouds do
and the houses were there
and the cars were parked
in the driveways and on the streets
and the people walking by looked more affable
than the ones I grew up with
and I imagined myself
living in their houses,
riding around in their cars,
taking walks with them on their streets
because when the beer can snapped
I knew a beating was waiting for me
over something I did or did not do,
it didn’t matter, it was just my time
and when it’s your time, it’s your time
and after the streetlights came on
everything went black
and the cicadas were silent
and I walked back into the house
because now it was my time
to scream.

There is a Kojack  
holding a Kodak  
down Ferry Lane.
Smile for the camera!

The driver tries with their all,  
to brake but their bravado falls.
The camera flash initiates
detaining a parade of number plates,
in a spectacle of haste,  
each capturing a moment
of transient taste.

Their reward -
a pricey speeding fine
as they cross the finish line.

©️Lizzie Bevis

A simple draft of air in the lungs
like I’ve done a billion times.
Exhale to hum a song I’ve sung
that calms with comforting rhymes.

In and out and rise and fall,
to feel my stomach be moved
and breathe through fears and all
‘til wrinkles of worry be smoothed.

I don't know what I'm doing

I can't stop writing

My fingers refuse to cease their movement

I have too many feelings

Too many thoughts

An idea building up

But I don't know how to shape it

I don't know how to treat it

To feed it

Is it an enemy?

I wish to defeat it

A lump is growing in my throat

My stomach is full of knots

I have too many issues

They're all pouring out

There's no holding back now

My thoughts are an ocean

There is no solid ground

Tell me about the dreams
that brightened your days
and the vibrant colours
that met your contented gaze;
Share moments of reflection
that linger and sway,
casting shadows of thought
that refuse to decay.  

Take me there with you,
I beg, never to part,  
as I crave the broken fragments
tucked deep inside your heart,
hidden away and locked up tight,
I long to explore
what is concealed from sight.  

You hold my attention
with a courage so bold,  
As you share tales of joy,
and of sorrows untold.  
I’ll sit here in silence,
my heart open wide,  
ready to hear every truth
you bravely confide.  

Please lead me on journeys
to the places before,
to feel unfamiliar ground,
then to new heights we’ll explore.  
Over mountains and hills,
and up through the clouds,
let me weather your past,  
So I may understand you,
and know you better at last.

©️Lizzie Bevis

I see you from a distance, forged in bronze,
four happy limbs moving in the sand,
milk-white teeth glinting like glass in the sun.
I see you held tightly to chests,
at home in a different home, and learning to love,
with fingers raking through pitch-black hair.
I see you laughing at us for caring so much,
spinning, spinning, but your head still ******* on,
moving like velvet in a world of lead.
I see you now, as I always did,
with a voice like thunder and a gaze steadier than the hand of God.
I see you in everyone I’ve met since then.

Please weave your
nerves along
My bones,
my marrow is
your supper.
Please wrap your
never ending
absoluteness around
My eternity,
my endlessness is
your reward.

There's a nobody
in everybody's pocket
that's been stuffed in
and forgotten

A full bloomed rose
of any color
dethorned , betroved
and begotten

A day in paradice
reserved for one
but somehow has
all been undone

Take a chance on
the life belittled
dumped and stuffed
into someone's pocket

some
float
up

slowly

the wind taking his hair
the wind blowing through him
skin and bone
the wind whistling through his teeth

some ride into the abyss

some are bounded
to cling to the earth,
rock and soil

some hang on to the edge

some ride the wild wind
into the Abyss

some see the river and fish

some rise up
when the lonely one asks for the them

does the abyss wait for you,
or did an angel come for you, brother

and if the earth is but a grain of sand
in the vastness of all the grains of sand
on all the beaches of an unfolding soul
drifting into the ripples of time,

I need to know, Lord?

the box

my brother on the dining room table.
ashes and memories.