Torn by indiscretion of age as it crawls across a pristine white page.
Almost similar to the arachnid, with feelings caught up.
Spun deep into the fabric of a shining web.
Web, captured within it a prism,
A prism that caught hold of enlightenment.
Showering spectrum of colours so bright.
Reflection from your ceiling crisp and clean into your mind.
The zeal of age indeed, encapsulates your being as a very real man, be not emasculated, by the guardians of youth.
Zenith awaits.
(C) Livvi

A holiday in Rome, said she.
Deep in the land of mystery.
Around the Coliseum, feel the pain of past lives lingering in the air.
The fountain of coins, it's inviting you in.
Sunlight sprinkles sparkle, in reflection of the coins intent.
Coins thrown in, wishes spent.
Kisses of the Italian romeo, well and truly meant.
At the time.
Wish he were mine.
Tall dark and handsome please, says the winsome one.
Parties and sorties at the Campo de' Fiori.
Piazza Navona of music and dancers, poets and passion.
Ms Hepburn, I trust you enjoyed.
I must go myself I so need  to see,
the feeling, the history the  desire, the calling,
Take me please soon, to Italy.
(c) Livvi

It's eleven 'o'clock.
Too early for lunch.
But,good for a nibble.
Carrots sticks.
Weetabix.
Lots of coffee.
Goes well at eleven, four, five, six and seven.
Much too late for breakfast...,
Who the hell says?
Eat when I feel, you know how it is.
(C) LIVVI

Don't crash and burn.
Just live and learn.
Share and care.
Be there.
But, be aware.
****** fueled fired chances for loving romances.
May kisses be gentle, tender and sweet.
The lady of flowers may fall at your feet.
Lick your toes.
Tickle your nose.
See where it goes.
Oh well,
could be swell.
(C) LIVVI

Trees strung with Catkins.
They hang on tight, bewitching the eyes of the watcher.
The observer, who so sees them twitching in the breeze of spring.
Perhaps, they belong to the Manx cats who left their tails behind when they played.
Or perhaps they're just the tails of mischief making local kittens, their tails got snagged when out at play.
Poor *******

The woman from the florist shop stopped.
Picked one or two.
Such a perfect accompaniment too.
A few spindly twigs.
To concoct a springtime creation.
For the lords and the ladies.
Of this great nation.
(c) Livvi

She's a little bit crinkled,
A bit like a chip.
Take everything offered.
You'll find her quite hip.
No broken bones tho.
See how she goes.
Broomstick be loaded.
See her long red hair flow.
Right out behind her.
Up up and away.
The red hot witch woman is off out to play !
(C) LIVVI

And the sky is darkening at the end of the day.
The trees are swathed in ebony flowers.
The children are crying, they're breaking their hearts.
Their blood flows bright.
The last night of their mother as her eyes be shut tight.
Goodnight mama, sleep just right.
(c) Livvi

Down the hillsides we stroll.
It's so very cold.
Ice bites the fingers.
The heart that's ablaze.
A hawk projects her image 'pon the skyline a glow.
Look at the sky sending pictures of snow.
Not snowing yet, we must not forget.
Snow's on her way by the end of the day.
Home we must away.
To sit by the fire, ablaze in the hearth.
Before the blizzard of cruelty assaults mother earth.
Supplies we have many.
They're stashed in the larder.
We purchased of plenty afore the weather became harder.
Standing on the peak at the top of the world, be a stag full of antlers.
They are weighing him down.
Tis only mine to wonder, where he doth go,
To stay safe and warm from the assailing snow.
Sanctuary now for me and thee.
Inside our refuge.
Where the evils of winter have visible charm.
Inside all cosy protected from harm.
(C) LIVVI

Thoughts of a January evening.
The days turned into a week.
A scarlet week of pure indulgence.
The painted lady's a butterfly and so she flew away.
Her wings weighed down with age that drenched, self image.
She drowned in last weeks' satisfaction.
The poet laughs in maniacal gratification.
Sorry my friend, I couldn't resist it.
Never mind, she smiles and winks.
Pours herself another drink...!
Shocking I hear you say,
(C) Livvi.

He teases her mind as he plays with her hair.
Broad smile spreading.
He knows that she's there.
There is a red carpet beneath her feet.
The lady is lovely, superbly sweet.
He's lovely too, as he hangs in her mind.
Never such love did he ever find.
A declaration of independence.
Be spoke in her defence.
That man.
(C) LIVVI

Grandma, you have big teeth.
They hide behind a stunning smile.
You spill silly words that mean nothing at all.
Penning wild words that quote nothing but bull..
My soul is full up, but hereby I spill it.
A few more silly words.
I'm vomiting ****.
(C) LIVVI

The night went away.
The sun came out to play.
The hedgehogs are hiding.
Until tonight.
The cats are not crying or calling and screaming.
They went back indoors and they're taking their cream in.
Along with cat biscuits and a little meat.
The dormice are sleeping until bedtime comes.
He's dreaming of Alice and teacups and fun.
In his dream  the Mad Hatter hides,
The queen of hearts decides,who's lives and who to dies.
Who at the end of the day is alive.
It off with his noddle said she.
Stroppy witch, she takes control of croquet games and rabbit holes.

The grub the hedgehog ate, destroyed his mental state.
It was nothing to do with dormice at all.
Somebody gave him milk and bread, instead of worms and garden bugs.
Gave him ****** weird dreams.
Went straight to his head.
Dawn broke.
Shuffled back into his home, under the bushes.
In a bit of a queer confused state.
He went straight back to sleep.
Hedgehogs don't eat bread and milk.
(c) Livvi

Of voices and choices.
Of fears and tears.
There are too many years, but never enough.
In bodies of evidence all pure pretence.
In fighting and smiting, in magic delighting.
So says the witch with the crippling grip.
And the magical fingertips that spark.
Abracadabra, let the music play on.
(C) LIVVI

BLUE BOY
"I'm not an expendable toy said she.
Boy oh boy, discard me not.
For she's already free.
A spider in a web she's trapped.
Denied with vehement indignity.
You bit her hard.
You're stuck on me, said she.
And I too am stuck on you".

This baby's blue.
Funny ploy boy.
She can show you incredible things.
Chances be given freely.
Her name she will write in indelible ink, right across your beating heart.
"It won't hurt my dear, she'll promise you".
Your wish be her command.

Paint an image of her being, inside your clever brain.
A beautiful little boy blue.
Could easily fall in love with her.
And she with you.
Sad curled up in turquoise.
(C) LIVVI

ONE OF THOSE DAYS
A tragic day, in the powerful place where the poet lives.
A hopeless pen today.
Said pen haranguing everything, sometimes.
When the hat of passion fits.
So all the world can visualise.
That's what she wants you see.
And she sits there with her head in hands.
Suddenly out of nowhere she finds her mouth *****.
She slides on that harmonica.
A musical work of art.
But,today she cannot play.
(C) Livvi

The heart weighs very heavy.
It occupies a cavity.
It's all because of the cussing and fussing.
With a dusting of morning snow.
They says it's just the rage of age.
Should she turn the passionate page?
Maybe tear it from the book of life.
Her heart still weighs super heavy.
It's precious metal.
Solid gold.
(C) LIVVI

She amended the spot of the huge fluffy rug, having just vacuumed the living room floor.
Got out her beeswax, polished the table.
Upon the wall hung, the head of the sable, she shined his eyes.
The glass eyes of the Sable, who'd been hanging up there for a number of years.
She sat in the armchair sipping her tea.

The rug had moved from it's spot.
It's wild and free.
A rap on the door.
The wrought iron knocker banged hard.
A young pretty girl, with silky blonde hair, stood on the threshold crying .
Face damp with tears.
Crying for years.

"Have you seen my daddy bear?"
The lady responded, " I'm sorry, he's dead".
The young girl in tears.
Heartbroken for years.
The rug that had moved, circumstances improved.
He barged through the door, did her dear daddy bear.
Took a firm hold of the young girl's hand.
A wink and a grin.
Off they go, a happy pair of fairy-tale features.
A rendezvous with red riding hood and the once reported big bad wolf.
An anthology of fairy-tale creatures
(c) Livvi

She walked in from the hurricane,
Straight into the storm.
The witch is for burning.
A cruising night.
A warming smile.
Making hearts burn fire.
The kiss of morning dragged her out of bed.
Left by the front door.
Into the starting blizzard.
Key in lock.
Door flies open.
Straight into the tempest.
The shrew in need of taming.
(C) Livvi

Discretion of predators, out to feast.
On vulnerability.
Vicious vultures from the deepest darkest depths.
Seen not until the surface breached.
Now and then, they'll take their own with sophistication.
Pursuing afflicted bed fellows.
Victorious villains violate base of silence.

Silence broken.
Hover around.
Desperate moments cry.
At refusal to oblige.
Voices wail.
Sometimes with razor tongues.
Breaking sonic boom, slight exaggeration.
They watch eagle eyed, as the finance provider frankly opens her purse.
And they say mum, ' have you got any spare change I can scavenge'
Off into the land of life they go at another's expense.


By ladylivvi1

© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

My sunshine, my raindrops.
My passion, my pain.
My morning flower, my evening star.
My cherish, my perish.
His fetish, his wit.
My cold wind, my rain.
My fire, my power.
Each sentimental hour.
My chaste, all this drama.
We are both jokers.
He wants to choke her.
Good sir,
I have to tell you,
Pray it is, with much regret.
I hereby do beseech you.
Remove your hands from round my neck.
(C) LIVVI

I am human.
Such a sad state of affairs.
Where in the world of dawning spring, the cuckoo calls and no-one cares.
Or maybe chooses not to hear.
Last year's bulbs are struggling out.
Seeking freedom.
Kingdom come.
Listen really closely, you may hear them shouting.

Death is tragedy in satirical French magazines.
Ice cold death, in local stores.
Offices and dodgy precipices.
Now in superlative support, the whole world screamed.
Praises be.
Four million people truly free.
Vive la France !
(c) Livvi

Drip drip.
And so it fell.
Water into the well.
Well ,down the sink really.
Okay so the tap washers perished.
The water running free .
So annoying, can't turn it of
(C) LIVVI

A pinch of idiocy
A drop of kindness.
Half an ounce of feeling.
Just a spoonful of stupidity.
A suitcase full advocacy
Stroke it with purring passion.
Take out a box of uncool lies.
Discard it down the drain.
Along with a kilo of this could be a ****** mess.
The cake is baking merrily.
We can almost hear the oven sing.
Open up the kitchen window and throw caution to the wind.
And then just wait and see.
(c)Livvi

Give him fowl and give him boar.
Find for him the courtyard *****.
Provide for him a newborn son.
To hold his land when he be done.
Instead the lord he did provide.
A daughter he so did decide.
She ruled with heart of a valiant man.
She whose mother's name be Anne.
(c) LIVVI

Find me an island.
I was alone, you joined me.
A distant island, where the sun blazes comfortably.
Where we are soothed by the sea,
Where the sand gets stuck between our toes.
You catch hold of me gently, and kiss my cute nose.
We can watch ocean liners, they're cruising the skyline.
Write love notes with palm fronds to one and another.
We can flirt with the birds.
The noisy ones with coloured wings.
We have to ****** one now and then, so we can eat.
Feeling rather mean...can't quit meat.
The setting sun, a shade of maroon,
How good it feels to be marooned.
Such mariners riding the tide of life, shipwrecked in paradise.
Don't rescue us too soon.
(C) Livvi

Walking in thunderstorms.
Throw back the rain.
Insidious icicles run down my spine.
Falling as hailstones.
All hail the king.

The king is a proud man.
A very profound man.
Lyrical, vocal.
Dark haired and deep.
He'll write me a love song.
I'll pen one for he.
I may  never be lyrical, but my words flow for free.
Him and me!
(c) Livvi

I fell into your eyes.
I held tight to your hand.
I tripped on your words and you fell for mine.
I regarded you as my equal,maybe more.
And I disregarded your wheels.
Two misfits that fit.
A perfectly carved jigsaw.
I'm  swollen on you.
(c) Livvi

Mr McCormick whacked her with his stick.
His nurse that was, he didn't want to be bothered.
He was reading the paper.
A political persuasion.
He'd sat on his glasses, so he couldn't see.
Frustration aggression maybe the theory.
Mrs Brady, a lovely old lady.
Elderly, but beautiful as she reported how she cavorted and partied when younger.
She's missing it so much, a passionate hungers.
With stiff old joints she wanted to dance.
A bit of a stumble, potential to tumble.
She lives in a world of being risk assessed.
Mr Jones an ******* of bones.
Poor fellow he gave up on all of his food.
He knew what he wanted.
His family all tried to persuade him.
To eat his meals.
He gave up on living, henceforth; so he'd only sip from a caring cup.
The nurse bade him goodbye, as from this life he slipped.
Stand outside on the pavement.
The window's wide open.
See his spirit fly free.
(C) Livvi
ALL NAMES IN THIS PIECE ARE PURELY FICTIONAL.

My mother's house is full of spirits.
An awesome atmosphere.
Ancient kitchen with all mod cons.
Narrow winding stairs.
Ethnic and groovy abode.
Art work sent straight from Bohemia.
Brick built fireplace.
Clean and neat.
Delicious taste of conscience cooking.
Consciously.
Hey good looking.
The cooking's grand.
And the  evening whisky.
Makes you sleepy.
I bet you thought I'd say frisky.
Your house is utterly amazing.
(c) Livvi

A conspiracy of co-existence.
Belittled in buckets of disaster.
A house full of twisted intelligence.
Decry the mind that writes for fun.
Fun and release.
No peace.
Demanding gang of children.
Sought explanations of the words that poets use.
Today's one was ominous.
The poet took it as a warning.
A threat of things to come.
And they both smiled and said..,
"You don't know what your on about."
A bucket of words this poet spills.
A mishmash of nouns.
Verbs with just a bit of adjective.
An adverb from time to time.
Occasional omnipresent onomatopoeia.
As if the poet doesn't know!
An awful lot of fun.
(C) LIVVI

Hair long as red as the mane of the lion.
Divine feline eyes.
Night time glints.
Sparkles.
The lady lioness.

She had kittens.
They're reared on milk bottle contents and pink champagne.
They swing round her hems,
They growl and moan.
Their neighbours they bother.
Driving their brothers and sisters insane.
Talons softer and shorter than mums, just a little bit.
Louder mouths until they feed upon the maternal lioness, who's purse they disrepectfully drain.
(C) Livvi

On the way home
From meeting the man who can't ,but who can.
The smile who carries the stars and the words to be sung to guitars and pianos.
To jelly she turned.
Once bitten fifteen times shy.
And the red rose is perched significantly over her left ear.
(C) LIVVI

Food swirls and swishes around his mouth.
He needs a washing machine for his clothes and a flannel for his hungry smile.
He brings the sun.
My very hungry caterpillar a.k.a my grandson.
So Grandma says you see.
Baby Bradley,mini boy!
The apple of his Nannas' eye.
(c) Livvi

Blind alleys of puppets.
They're strolling on strings.
Off into obsessive oblivion.
Then you go and die.
Who's gonna cry over your spilled pots of lies?
The switch was flicked in the dungeon of doom.
The one with affection ,you call your bedroom.
Flicked by she, not he.
She grins from ear to ear, like Carroll's Cheshire cat.
That was that, she is free.
She always was you see.
(C) LIVVI

Rest in peacetime Bernard Jordan,
Respect for this brave old soldier.
Now may he be free.
Your dearest wish was granted.
A rebel with a clue.
He knew what he wanted to do.
Bless you.
(c) Livvi

Crunchy.
Foul dose.
Of a stringy thing.
Stranded.
Strung out.
Hunger pangs.
Not eating that.
Celery.
(c) Livvi

Ladies of death.
They sit and they wait.
With years of tears they're awaiting a date.
Strung out like ***** laundry, they're waiting for cleansing.
The dusty haze as lights go out.
Heading for heaven, Nirvana or hell.
Corrupted system as no man can tell.
Slamming of cell doors.
Rattling of keys.
Awaiting execution.

Pleas for clemency.
Pleas all ran out.
May justice be done, before their last breath.
Before the setting of this their final sun.
Pray let all the evidence be fitting.
Before the eyes of God the Father.
Openly honest, a proven conviction.

IN MEMORY OF FRANCES NEWTON.
EXECUTED AT HUNTSVILLE 2005
By ladylivvi1

© 2015 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

She wears a beautiful shadow.
She once hung in your wardrobe at night,.
You were smitten by her.
She your once lover.
Your love given freely.
You smirk as you flippantly flirt.
You neglect to mention the name,
The name of the special one.
Who once switched on your sun.
By ladylivvi1

© 2015 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Make do and mend.
Let's play, let's pretend.
Can we get any better?
The grass that we play on becomes so much wetter.
It's raining again.
It's all pouring pain.
Will your eyelids still flutter?
Maybe drip cocoa butter, that's melted.
Or peanut butter may the lumps make you splutter.
Maybe you'll choke on chunks of old peanuts and breath in wood-smoke.
Down in the wild woods, lets go be good.
Let's chase away bears, last seen munching hares.
Hide in the tree roots, write love notes in charcoal.
"Look out honey, can you see that big hole?"
Obviously not, you fell into it.
My cell phone won't work, I have no signal.
Time to do what the Indians do,
Smoke signals lit and now I sit.
You're still stuck in that hole,
Nothing I can do now but take a pew,
On an ancient tree stump I flop.
When will this stop.
Through the trees comes a sneeze, followed by an Indian brave.
He came with a rope, to save you and I.
Guess my smoke signal language was right.
"How" said he with a beaming smile, " you're the first ones I rescued in quite a long while"
"If you go down in the woods today, look out for holes while you're out at play".
Home they all went with a brilliant grin.
I guess my  silly story here took you all in.
(c) Livvi

Welcome to la la la land.
Let the music play on.
Saturday's dawned.
Friday's all gone.
Left overs of Friday in the bin.
The lust of last Friday, got under the skin.
Saturday's back, off out to play.
A night of blessed sweet jazz.
Jazz music with friendship, all that pizzazz.
(c) Livvi

At seasons change.
Be their gardens sparkled with snowdrops, bowing their peeping heads.
Diminutive in a flood of alabaster, blasted with vibrant ****** leaves.
Colours laid upon the grass.
Moving months the changelings evoked.
My space pray be sprinkled with realms of scented flowers.
Soft scent in springtime.
The flowers die and dry.
While I mature to perfection.
And so the sun blazes hard and strong.
Summer beckons the coming of hay.
With the hay the harvester calls.
Their leaves tumble.
Christmas is coming,
The pines are whispering in the breeze.
Longing for their freedom.
To put on their best clothes.
'Tis warm in the living room.
Avoidance of the winter snows.
(C) LIVVI

You can rip at me with your very blatant fingernails.
The grubby ones you  used to impale the snails.
The snails and the slugs that bugged you.
Almost as much as I do.
No regard for my feelings.
Now you tie me to your chair.
I said you were a nerd, but nobody heard.
You love me not and I don't care.
I love the snails, but I loathe the slugs.
But I would not impale them I'd let them free.
Because I'm not you and you're not me!
(C) Livvi

Cold granite stands guard.
A sentry to the lost ones protecting the occupants firm in silent fixation.
In the cold of a vast winter night, together they wither,
The long dead ones.
Huddled together in the royal family tomb.
From outside the cemetery hut window, the sentry watches the occupant,
He's toasting mallows with his iron fork, a blaze burns in the homestead hearth.
The sentry was the brave man.
Standing outside in the cold.
Guarding those who were no more.
Steal not those regal bones.
Never complains, never moans.
It is nearly morning and he is relieved.

Heigh- **, off he goes into the curator's whare.
For fluffy  marshmallows and warmth to share.
(C) Livvi

On your knees before me Sir.
Only you can make this ***** cat purr.
Make me proud of you.
You are the knowing one,
Who knows just what to do.
You said your name was Richard.
Henceforth, I'll call you ****.
(C) LIVVI

SUCH WANTING
What was it like to taste me?
To feel the electric as it rippled down your spine.
The taste of an angel, a lady in waiting.
Would you like to live within my life?

Stains of black makeup ,ingrained on your pillow.
They also stained your broken heart.
For you never accepted you were worthy of my pretty love.
I can't believe I made you love me, but I did indeed.
You and I still stand together, but apart, for what we believe in.
You have exquisite ******* dear.
I taste better than whisky.
Much better than wine.

Here I perch as the kingfisher waits
Still waiting for my king to return.

Dressed in a white crushed velvet frock.
You in raven black.
It's been a couple of years now.
Do I still want you back?
(C) Livvi