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Lizzie Bevis Jan 9
Sitting here in this cheerful café,
I watch the steam rise from my cup,
and I stir some sugar into my tea
as shared laughter drifts upwards.

A delicious lemon drizzle cake
sits in the centre of the table,
much like a sweet, sticky offering
to the joys of friendship, good company
and fond memories.

We sit here chatting away
as if no time has passed between us,
the conversation flows like honey,
as stories and smiles spill across the table
along with stray cake crumbs.

Time seems irrelevant
as tea leaves unfurl,
seeping in the teapot
as our hearts open just as gently.

Our voices blend like the perfect brew
strong and sweet,
warm and familiar
filling emptiness with belonging.

The afternoon daylight streams
through the large windows,
warming our eyes and faces
in this moment we created.

Perfect in its simplicity,
rich as lemon drizzle cake
and as enduring as friendship.

©️Lizzie Bevis
A cup of tea and a slice of lemon drizzle cake with friends always makes everything seem so much better.
Lizzie Bevis Jan 8
Grey clouds burst from leaden skies,
While puddles mirror my heavy eyes,
The thrumming droplets on window panes
Echo the throbbing of my aches and pains.

Lifeless streets shine, although grim and wet,
While every puddle swells with regret,
As wind blows through the scraggy bare trees,
Howling and wailing into the breeze.

I stand in shop doorways to keep dry
As rain continues to fall from the sky,
Like tears that stain the sullen ground,
And my hope dissipates without a sound.

I look around and I know
That it will be another dismal day.

©️Lizzie Bevis
I'm very English…I complain about the weather, just poetically!
Lizzie Bevis Jan 7
I wake up to the sound of cars
driving through puddles,
Splashing me awake;
Whilst moments ago,
I was dreaming
Of somewhere far away.

The rain should be soothing,
As plump drops beat down
Persistent in their rhythm,
Hammering on the glass
Whilst I hide under covers
And I  do not wish to rise.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Lizzie Bevis Jan 6
The bottle, your loyal companion,
Numbing your pain and fuelling your vice,
Dragging you deeper into the abyss,
Evading the value of your precious life.

Each warm sip, a false promise of solace,
Betraying your heart and ravaging your mind,
Shackled by the chains of hard addiction,
You become a prisoner to demons unkind.

The cheer of old times fades to silence,
As the light in your eyes slowly dies,
Unsteady with no anchor to ground you,
Treading a sea of lonely, unsettled demise.

You tell me you want to break free,
To see the world through sober eyes,
But the waves keep pulling you under,
As you drown in whiskey's tragic goodbye.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Lizzie Bevis Jan 6
Please do not teach grandmother
how to **** eggs, you see,
Your attitude is not her cup of tea!
It's brass monkeys outside
and I'm frozen to bits,
For crying out loud, now that is it!

"Keep your hair on!"
my brother did shout,
My knickers got twisted
as I paced about.
Everything was quite tickety-boo,
Until that old chestnut
came out of the blue!

"Oh my giddy aunt!"
I fell to my knees and cried,
The spanner was thrown,
as my plans went awry.
But when Bob's your uncle,
it will all work out fine,
With a piece of cake,
It will be sorted in no time!

I said "Put a sock in it!"
to all of the noise,
While listening the boys
argue over their toys.
Then off I went,
with a sigh and a jog,
To go and see a man about a dog.

©️Lizzie Bevis
This is a playful poem that weaves together a few British idioms and colloquialisms, creating a fun narrative about dealing with daily frustrations in a somewhat British way.

For help understanding their meanings please take a look at this page: https://www.oxfordinternationalenglish.com/dictionary-of-british-slang/
Lizzie Bevis Jan 5
In rooms where private thoughts take flight,
behind closed doors, in the quiet of night,
remember well this British tale,
that the air has ears that often sail.

Each muttered affliction, each resentful sigh,
may find its wings and touch the sky.
For secrets kept in mortal *******
build nests with beaks that know no rest.

These walls have feathered spies,
and flocks of lookouts in disguise.
Your words, once freed from anger's fire,
may flutter back to stir their ire.

So hold your tongue and guard your thoughts,
nature's lure intends that you get caught,
and the smallest sparrow on the breeze
may carry tales across the seas.

What is spoken in your solitude
will echo in the multitude.
Remember, that birds have ears and eyes,
and are eager to share all across the skies.

©️Lizzie Bevis
A poem inspired by the British Idiom - A little bird told me.
This carries the meaning of receiving information from a secret informant, in this case a bird.
The root source is thought to be from the Bible, Ecclesiastes 10-20:
“Do not revile the king even in your thoughts, or curse the rich in your bedroom, because a bird in the sky may carry your words, and a bird on the wing may report what you say.”
Lizzie Bevis Jan 4
Leaving it in other hands
A surrender, slow and sure.
A loosening of the tether that stands
Between what we can't endure.

As all who patiently wait
For the lock to disengage,
Each choice becomes a weight of fate
Released from its cage.

A sword will cause a decisive mark
That makes permanent our choice.
The final stroke, a light in dark,
Gives silence now a voice.

©️Lizzie Bevis
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