Seeking my younger self in the depths of the mirror that sparkles.
The mirror of sparkles,
which dwells in the river of moments once spent.
Spent as bullets.
Once fired from a living gun.
The living gun, as the are bullets wasted.
Now, in  virtual silence, ones self is found in a poetry book.
One, I writ.
I write for relief.
For  the exorcism of demons.
Repentant pleasure.
Penance at the end of a pen.
My medication.
My religion.
My love.
(C) Livvi

In the musty crypt.
Beneath the Norman church.
In the old town.
Orleans.
'Tis said.
Hangs a deep red tapestry.
An old gas lamp.
Stands in the corner at the end.
Currently unlit.
Curious.
Considering , you the intruder can smell the wick of  recently extinguished gas.
You feel your way round.
Fighting the darkness.
You hold in your rigid hand a torch.
A plastic battery operated one.
Hidden secrets revealed.
An antiquated niche.
Carved out of the cold wall.
It hides a long abandoned tea stained book.
Itching to take a look.
Edging silently forward in a nervous state.
The dark and dust are choking you.
Your ears peeled, by your own fear.

A shuffling sound,
The dragging of the owners feet.
They're scratching.
Apparently, the owner's completely unaware.
Of your inadvertent space invading.
It's his space you're invading.
He knows you're there.

Ushered to the coffin edge.
Encouraged on by his bony finger.
Petrified.
He grabs your wrist.
Aiming your torch inside.

Inside the coffin.
Lay a mere chess set.
Made of shiny green marble.
The bare bones.
Made the first move.
You were to be his latest pawn.
From out of the gloom.
A booming voice was heard to say.
"All hallows eve".
"I'm glad you came, I so hoped, a playmate would join me today."
(C) Livvi

Those shoes.
She has Dorothy's shoes.
They're not red, they're bright blue.
He noticed them shining.
That wizard did.
They were almost lighting up the sky.
And he spoke one of few rare words.
The wizard said "please kiss me".
She ****** life's nectar,through a subtle plastic straw.
Looking rather impish.
Responded with a lacy tongue.
A delicacy, worth stroking.
And together, they so they tangled.
In a contortion of twisted tongues.
She'd come all the way from was not was.
In her heart of hearts
She was destined for Oz.
She'd tripped over.
She broke the heel on her sparkly blue shoes.
The paparazzi waited in the wings.
Just to ****** a scoop.
An overnight sensation.
The papers said 'twas true.
The wicked witch was dead.
The newer model witch of Oz.
Wore delightful shoes of sparkly blue.
She was the lucky one.
She had a heart, she had a brain.
And a pair of broken shoes.
What a load of cobblers this poem is.
I think she needs to find one, to fix her broken shoe!
(C) Livvi

I felt you were spring time.
You dressed my trees with blossoms.
Spring flowers bowed their heads, as you and I passed by.
The stream bubbling by ,shouted such respect.

Summer came.
The sunlight lady tanned the sky.
Tickling us with her light.
We peeled our clothes down to near nothing.
The daylight heat felt better that way.
Our night times were naked.
We lay on opposing sides of the naked bed.
The coolest daytime moments came upon those summer's days, when we awoke and touched.

But, then like the flowers love turned into an autumn mist.
As August end games we kissed goodbye.
Our seasonal love was destined to die.
Like a regular Shakespearean tragedy.
We were never meant to be forever.
Surely t'was decreed by the universe.
Que sera sera.
Indeed, whatever will be will be.

Your love has gone now.
Nothing ever could be worse.
Love cursed, abandoned in the summer park.
I left my tears upon the river bank.
So free.
They could flow right into the sea.
(C) LIVVI

have a terrible problem.
It's almost giving me terrors.
I have spun my web of mystery and I hung it in a cavern.
The mites grow up.
Tangled in gossamer smiles
Tights fall ever downwards inside the hollow cave of echoes.
However;
My web's not full of spiders it's full of frustration...my internet went down..
First time I tousled a poem...today.
It's not very good and I don't want to play.
I've thrown my dummy out of the pram...what on earth can I say, except oh ****!
(C)LIVVI

Do you know what happens to the teeth of children salvaged by the tooth fairy.
They are carried away in a velvet purse.
A vermilion scarlet purse with golden drawstrings.
And so the story begins.
~~x~~
The tooth fairy is a tiny soul, but she flies incredibly fast.
She wears a dress of silver and a tiny little diadem.
She sports the wings of a dragonfly.
Diminutive.
Dainty, she's  much too small.
Much to small to be seen, by the unsuspecting naked eye.
Too big to be snatched by passing birds, so now you you know.
~~x~~
She carries her precious cargo, to the ice floes near the fjords.
And there she is greeted by the ice queen.
Whose name is Matilda.
She has been building a new ice castle, in which her family dwell.
~~x~~
It isn't finished yet you know.
She cares not what colour your teeth are.
As long, as they're not holey.
Holey teeth let the cold in.
~~x~~
Chilled wind whistles around her old arthritic neck.
Her kids took over the construction.
The buildings nearly finished.
~~x~~
The tooth fairy, whose name is Christina.
Dropped of yet another batch.
Sadly the naughty children have not brushed as the should have done.
A batch of broken teeth delivered.
My goodness how Christina shivered.
~~x~~
She thought she'd ask me to drop you a line.
To remind your children to brush well every time.
Matilda smiled at Christina.
She said" thank you my dear"
"For this winter I may freeze."
So please, please brush your teeth.
You really really should.
She said she'd find it really swell.
Hole less teeth will keep Matilda warm and well.
(c)Livvi