LOVE AND PAIN

Love and pain rode in a boat.
They had a mighty fight.
Pain grabbed love most painfully, around her pretty throat.
Fight began in morning time, dids't cease by darkest night.

Love had eyes that spoke of dreams.
Pain had eyes as black as coal.
Love wrote letters reams and reams.
Pain laughed hard with blackened eyes, for pain could find no soul.

Love smiled inside the lady fair.
Pain tried so hard to beat her wishes.
Love sparked on inside, she dreamed, she ne'er had a care.
Pain tumbled overboard, now dwelling with the fishes.

For 'twas the dawn of Sunday morn.
When the river gave up pain, pain was pulled out screaming all sodden and forlorn.
(c)LIVVI

We walk through the woods.
The wind in our hair.
Childlike.
Almost skipping.
Walking on air.
Kisses of sunshine.
Such delight to be there.
Hands clasped together.
Unity.
Sensing feelings that flow, so electrically charged.
Meeting of eyes.
Greeting of minds.
Cultivating roses of our own making.
Freshly pruned.
Shapely creations.
(C)LIVVI

AMUSING MUSING

All my friends they are leaving.
Gone off falling in love.
Thank the Lord for the summer sun.
Soon to come.
To dry the rain.
Soothing subtly with kisses.
Dry grass and puppy dogs.

Sitting musing on fallen logs.
Of friendships that left.
And hearts that were broke.
Of the long past lovers that no longer spoke.
No more words uttered.
Their bread's always buttered.
Easier to swallow when moist.
Single minded.
A little lonely.
No choices.
Hollow voices.
Hollering proudly.
Free flying.
Fire sign spirit in me.
(c)LIVVI

The most learned of astronomers, philosophers and medical men state man is born to die.
Timely sands starts flowing, in-vitro.
Before you first open your beautiful eyes.
Opening those eyes, to first see the light.

For, as a child, odd moments occur.
You could potentially be dying of fright.
Just me having a chuckle.
Not wanting to believe life is minute.
Oh, so scared of dying.

At some stage in life.
Children can't conceive the fact, one day all men have to die.

Once upon a time.
I was said child.
I grew.
I started to ache knowingly.
My worry dispelled.
Dying was fearful.
I became tearful.
Not scared anymore.

Now my fellows in life are falling like flies.
No whys or wherefores,
Nothing's wrong.
Life's an eternal wheel.
Rolls on and on.
What follows life on earth?
Find me a dead man who can confirm the truth to those who still live.
Welcome to the land of wait and see.
(c)LIVVI
Inspired by the untimely death of VICTORIA WOOD.

TIRED
My expectant pen is blossoming like fresh bloom upon a springtime tree.
It is with a degree of urgency, that it fills me more and more.
Full of words and ideas.
The size of a barnacled blue whale.
I need to write.
To breathe.
To conceive of such imagery.
The mistress of the pen in spring urges the world to write and sing.
And so,
After a sleepless night at work.
Forthwith be drawn a ****** birth.
Inspired by a missing sleep morning.
Friday is dawning.
The poor poet is yawning.
(c)LIVVI

IDLE WILDERNESS
Ancient moorland calls to me.
The wind whistles, as it rustles my hair.
A trickling stream just visible.
A brown cow grazes on patches of grass.
A landscape which; looks as if mange has taken hold.
Appears sparsely coated.
Strangely, it's countryside ruminant colleagues sit beside the wall.
Yet the sky remains cloudless.
They say 'tis a prediction of coming showers or heavier rains.
Not a sign of raindrops.
Perhaps they're hiding from the breeze.
A clump of trees with leaves that rustle a touch.
Invasion from nowhere.
Crashes.
Bangs.
Sparks.
Soaked ground.
Drenched cows.

Glad I remembered my old gabardine mac.
Soaked to the bone.
Tommy came to find me.
Diesel powered pony.
Hopped inside.
Off we both go.
Poor cows, stranded in a soggy field.
I'm soggy still.
I know how they feel.
Poor things.
(c)LIVVI

I look at the clock.
Finding that I'm thinking of you again.
Visage fading into distant clouds.
Just your image.
Keeps creeping back.
Just like the smell of freshly baked bread.
Love it.
Makes me feel I'm alive.
I love fresh baked bread.
And I love you too.
And the moon is dressed with vapour trails from passing jets.
The vapour trails remind me of our foreign business trips.
Perfect pleasure.
The places we've been.
All that we've seen.
I smell your feel in my bed sheets.
As I felt your fingers in my bed hair.
Guess what?
You're just a fantasy.
You were never ever there.
(c)LIVVI