Olivia Kent

Olivia Kent Mar 2016

Live in the land of fantasy.
Where children play and blood runs free.
Mindful of angels who fear to tread.
Playing games of madness that live in the head.
Going to live forevermore upon the never, never score.
Angels serenade with pink lemonade.
With ***** and wine.
A score board marked with red and white ink.
Stuck in time.
Sit and think.
Time it rolls, onward and upwards.
Heaven sent.
Perhaps heaven's meant.
(C) LIVVI

Olivia Kent Mar 2016

LIVING

Want to do music and drama and dance.
To whirl round a maypole while seeking romance.
Collecting spring flowers.
With wonderful scents.
To live for the moment.
To roll on damp grass.
Watching the birds fly.
Seeing a magpie from the side of my eye.
While lovely children go running awry.
Evening is coming.
A life full of fun.
Recalling the moment they once called me mum.
Mum became nan.
Such is life.
(c)LIVVI

Olivia Kent Mar 2016

THE PURPOSE OF THE PENCIL

The pencil is straight.
It's a female pencil.
How do I know?
Because it has no colour.
It is rigid and set in its ideas.
It writes as directed.
If it was coloured perhaps it would be gay.
As it played.
Or maybe with colour flowing through its soul.
It may scribble pristine poetry.
The reason for its existence.
(c)LIVVI

Olivia Kent Feb 2016

RUNNING

Run to the hills with the wind in your hair.
Tripping out as if you don't care.
Chase the birds out of the trees.
Avoid winding up the honey bees.
Incessant sound of pouring rain.
Infinite tapping on my brain.
A spring that's coming is coiled fast.
The wind and rain a malevolent blast.
Swirling around telephone mast.
A maelstrom of communication.
Feel vibration of melodic calling.
The Sand is clogged.
Tis waterlogged.
The rain and wind shall surely blow.
Where they shall blow us none shall know.
The future hangs upon the stars.
Of all the boys in all the bars.
The poetic pen shall be irreverent.
But, all shall be indifferent.
And the poet self-indulgent.
(c)LIVVI

Olivia Kent Feb 2016

CEASEFIRE?

The sun hath fallen from the skies.
The night is lit by fireflies.
The sun shall greet me in the morrow.
Maybe the day it shall evict the sorrow.
Laying or lying worldwide?
Where the ceasing of fires cannot be denied.
Never in millions of years.
No falling bombs where children die?
Injurious war.
Old folks are hiding in their beds.
Covering their heads.
Inviting death?
What do you think?
(C)LIVVI

Olivia Kent Feb 2016

MY ANGEL

My angel thou is always there.
Watching me from my fractured ceiling.
I sense you, but, seeing you is beyond my senses.
My ability are not one those that permits the seeing angels or maybe not seeing enough.
I hear you whispering like a gentle wind.
In bed I feel you touch me, invisibly.
Snuggled with a being who isn't really there.
My angel.
Look after me.
I know I need you there.
(c)LIVVI

Olivia Kent Feb 2016

LOVE,I DOUBT IT

Said I'd love you darling.
For ever and a day.
I say your honour" I love you,"
But you never knew I lied.
I smiled as I knelt and I knelt as I smiled.
I called you sir.
You called me milady.
You ran your fingers through my hair.
You teased my hair as I teased you too.

You stood in full attention.
That I shall not mention.
As I licked, I liked.
In passion's throes.
I told you I loved you.
The only thing you never knew was that my passionate cries.
Were merely lies.
Love died long ago.
You sir, you will never know.
(c)LIVVI