Olivia Kent

Olivia Kent Jan 2017

Empathy,
Not sympathy,
Bright,
Not dull.
Caring,
Not scary.
The love dove beating her wings.
In her beak only beautiful things.
Poppies,
Not lilies, nor nettles.
Poppies thrown overland as memorial of battles from the lands before.
We are peaceful of perfect heart.
We love our world so dressed with art and creativity.
Let our planet live and breathe.
She is glorious,
Sustainable life.
We love the world,
The world and her wife.
(c) LIVVI

The reference to the world and her wife relates to the moon.

Olivia Kent Jan 2017

THE AGEING OF THE SQUIRREL

Missing,
The red.
Something a little like a shiny squirrel.
Once the colour was precious.
Rare.
Glowing.
Proud.
Cherished.
Protected.
Now,
Merely.
An irksome rodent pest.
Is faded.
Still buzzing.
Skittish,
Scurrying.
Grey.
(C) LIVVI
A loose look at the changing colour of my hair.
Inspired by Matt Chamberlain

Olivia Kent Jan 2017

WRITING ON THE EDGE.

Bird flirting with death.
In a deadly dance on the train line.
Train coming.
Woo woo,
Fly past.
And I find myself musing towards immortal fantasy.
My imagination picks up images that no man shall ever see.
Precious images won't be the death of me, nor the tiny little bird,
Sweet,
Dicing with death on the line that's electric.
He'll live to see another day,
Wahey.
(c)LIVVI

#the #*** #by #at #inspired #yesterday #bird #station #local

Olivia Kent Jan 2017

IMAGES OF NEW ORLEANS

Tuesday morning.
Sounds of New Orleans.
Cafe bars are rocking.
Velvety buzzing jazz.
Diana sings her luscious tones,
Piano sings along.
Trumpets sound.
She sports a dress of pure azure.
Matches her eyes the people say.
They're right I'm sure.
Down the street by the voodoo store.
The lights are low
Burning incense.
Image immense.
A magic feline creeps out of the alley.
Been scavenging.
Smelly old fish.
No airs and graces.
Not even a dish.
Further down the alleyway,
a carcass of chicken laid bare.
Ripped to bits by townsfolk who care.
The wishbone hangs in there,
All out for dreaming,
Wishing and kissing.
Young folk and tinkers all up for a share.
A musical cortège.
Passing transport for a one who once was there.
Victim of life.
Heading underground right now.
They're off to the old town crypt.
Finale.
Exit stage left.
(c)LIVVI

Olivia Kent Jan 2017

BUDS

Lost in a whirlwind.
That's beating the eyes.
The falling of old leaves.
A mere disguise.
At the end of the twiglets, buds of green curl.
Tight.
Neat.
Waiting to unfurl.
Proof in the mind's eye that true love is coming.
A love of life.
Trifling.
Dabbling.
Magic of spring break.
Last year is happily dead.
Momentous change.
Around the invisible corner doth wait.
For sure.
In all certainty.
All hands be raised that tomorrow may be great.
(C) LIVVI

Olivia Kent Jan 2017

ANOTHER YEAR

Breathe.
Exhale as hard as you can.
Feel.
A chill as it nips at your fingers, toes and nose.
Smell the freshness of winter.
Feel the vicious kiss of cold on lips that chap and crack.
Be grateful.
Christmas is over,
We survived the year just left.
Cry tears for all who have departed.
First.
Now stop.
Breathe.
Life.
Love they who have just started.
Leave no stone unturned.
No lesson unlearned.
Live,
Love,
Thrive,
Survive.
No choice.
Together a world voice.
(c)LIVVI

Olivia Kent Dec 2016

LEAVING

We're tired they said.
Before fumbling and stumbling blindly into bed.
The warren ceased it's burrowing's.
Comedienne, bade the world goodbye, before she took her leave.
Princess Leia's bleeding heart was wiped upon her sleeve.
George Micheal, crept unexpectedly into his duvet covered bed.
Covered his head and drifted into eternal slumber.
How many more complete the number. After all 2016, must bear the number of the beast.
Maybe, just maybe the Grim Reaper's had his final feast,
For this year anyway.
(c)LIVVI