Stilling,
a word that ain't right
Stilling, I feel the stillness still in me
Just for a second
I need continuing
rhythmic breaths keeping
I am not thinking, but am I?
Am I breathing right and stilling my mind?
Go figure, I am sleepless sleeping all the time.

Slipping,
Like I had time and it is spilling
Like now how much more do I possess
Peace is slipping from the best of the hands
We were calm before, future uncertain
It's the present I don't know
It's in second break, slipping into a trance

Stopping,
My thoughts like a top, endlessly spinning
A spiral of worries, a ceaseless hum
Is this a dream, or has my reality come undone?
The world spins on, indifferent to my plight
Trapped in this moment, suspended in night
I yearn for an end, a quiet release
From this relentless turmoil, I seek inner peace.

Sinking,
Deeper into the silence, slowly shrinking
The edges of my being, blurring and faint
A whisper of self, a silent complaint
The weight of the world, a heavy embrace
Leaving no room for time, no time, no space.
Just this hollow echo, a fading sound
As I lose myself, nowhere to be found.

Surrendering,
To the quiet starking dark, no longer contending
The fight has left me, a weary sigh
Beneath the vast and indifferent sky.
This hushed acceptance, a strange new grace,
A fading pulse in this empty space.
No more struggle, just a gentle sway,
As I finally let go of this body, and drift away.

your loving touch boosts
oxytocin love hormone
magic in the air
21/6/2025

What if life was a match
struck in darkness
that brief, burning moment
as the flame grows
baptising all it touches
with its blessed light.

Even as the snuffer looms,
deaths cap leaves behind
a smouldering ember,
and as it all cools down
I can somehow still feel
the warmth.

If time was kinder
I'd keep the flame burning,
but since it will not yield,
I'll love and remember
the glow long after
the flame has died.

©️Lizzie Bevis

I have all this love
And nowhere to put it
It's rotting inside me
Soft,warm
Unspent.

I reach out in dreams
But wake up alone
His name buried in my throat
Like a secret
I was not allowed to say.

He didn't stay
But the love did
And now it grows wild
Inside a heart
With no one left
To give it to.

They used to call him the ironmonger
For he'd make a bolt for the door
When it was his turn at the bar
His wallet was in his other jacket
He'd be back in a minute
Just round the corner
It wasent far
It became a sort of art form
One that I couldn't help applaud
His bald faced brass balledness
Deffo could not be ignored
But there is a craft
To chicanery
If done with a bit of charm
It provides its own amusement
So really where's the harm?
Others were driven *****
It made them twist and ****
But I always appreciate
A master hard at work.