The marching bands of military men.
In ceremony well,
They truly make me cry.
Lift up mine excitement.
As the trumpets they do cry.
Drums beat their lives out.
Causes awesome fear on battlefield.
In ceremonial adrenaline.
'Tis adrenaline that makes heart cry!

Children round the yule tree.
Make my eyes drown.
Hark the voices of angels.
Fed up with excitement.

Love songs sung.
So lyrical and blue.
The blues they so cry mournfully.
Music of memories.
Those songs,
You know the ones I mean.
Significant songs.
Designed to make you cry.
Cry me a river.
One In which I can not drown.

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

He stood in the darkness of the graveyard,waiting for his  time to come.
The cold night winds pierced his fragile skin burning as fire, such searing pain.
Time crept by so slowly.
He huddled his soul into his carpet bag, trying to keep life's warmth retained!
A travel bag packed with memorabilia from days well spent, was all that remained!
Daylight dawned.
Cheery bird song applauded his  over night efforts, now he was descending!
He was not gloomy, relief was upon him!
Morning had come at last!
Hid behind the stones ,the past laid markers.
He looked around, surveying the situation!
The widow woman, tears streaming stood beside the vacant hole.
She wandered vacantly into to the house of those holy, supported by those who cared !
Held upon strong shoulders high, he peered up into the sky.
It was his turn, his time had come.
No longer wandering through God's acre,
Casket lowered, six feet or more.
A single red rose did descend upon him.
He had known all along she'd be there.
Until death delivered him.
Escaped from cruel Mother Earth's Evils!
Rest in peace my friend!

Dominique,
The nicer version,
He spoke to me with tongue of fork,
What did Livvi do, bar laugh.
He gave her a giggle,
with the words the she wrote,
So, in her most indignant style,
she said she'd pen something far less vile.
He has a heart of gold,
but he's just a friend,
he's much too old,
he's a very good writer,
with a mighty pen.
He writes of true love and flowers,
not as risque,
as Livvi,
this cute piskie,
but he's okay to chat to every day,
Dominique,
he's my critique,
He kinda makes me giggle,
not much more as I'm a tad fickle!
(C) Livvi

1720, work’s all done.
Listen boss, I got to dash.
Stopped at florist.
Bought red roses for his lover.
Ran down the street clutching his bunch.
Glanced at his watch.
Sees that he’s late.
To meet the wife.
Anniversary date.
Puts his hand in jacket pocket.
Aims to find his mobile.
Silly sod forgot it.

Got to the phone box on the corner of the street.
Waited a minute or two.
Until in desperation, to give apologetic explanation.
Tap, tap tap, he rapped.
Bashes on the phone box door.
A silly old dear with hair rinsed in blue.
Spins round with venomous tongue.
Shouts out loud.
“Be patient son”.
“Can’t you see I’m having a chat!”
Chatter chatter.
Natter natter.
On and on she went.
Dude outside was going mental.

Mrs Ancient left the cubicle.
Throwing ***** looks around.
Huffing a puffing, like the dragon she is.
The flower man flies in the box.
Receiver picked up.
Dials lady lover’s number.
Typically the number’s engaged.
So, spitting fire the fella’s enraged.
Tired of trying to explain.
Knowing his next train is due in a while.
Runs from the kiosk not wearing a smile.
In his ire he chucked the roses.
Landed in the ******* bin.
At the terminus of train at last.
The flower seller grinned at him.
She could see his stress shine through.
Sold him a bunch of lilies of peace.
Before on to the train he swept.

Key in the front door.
Inside he ventured.
Smelling cremated dinner burn.
“Oops darling I’m so sorry.
You’d never believe the day I had.
See darling.
I didn’t forget our anniversary!”
(C) Livvi 2014

Sat on the bridge.
Legs dangling, swinging in the breeze.
Look closely and little skittish fishes flying like sunlit darts.
Throwing twigs in, so naughty is what we are.
We just love watching them drifting and riding the tide.
Oh look, there's a bigger fish, not a minnow or a stickleback, a little trout maybe.
Gone to quickly, won't be tonight's tea.
A flash of vibrant colour.
Faster than light.
The strike of the kingfisher.
Doubtlessly he caught our trout.
(c)Livvi

The idea of marriage was such a curse,
the bride and groom turned up in a hearse.
Sat on the back seat clutching a bouquet of stunning black roses.
the gorgeous bridesmaids sat scratching their noses.
The bridesmaids sat in the bridal car,
worked out cheaper that way by far.
The groom wore a white suit,
it made him look cool,
The bride dressed in black,
she broke all of the rules.
He stuck his ring upon her finger,
it didn't fit too well,
The poor beautiful bride,
She had piled on buckets of weight,
her finger swelled,
so on this her special day,
she really didn't look great.
(C) Livvi

Crumbling into dust abhorrent,
In a misery of self esteem in full denial,
Continually reviled in a revolution of nightmares,
Veiled under skylight cloaked in sapphire,
Moonlight taps the tree tops, leaving only pallid illuminations on display,
Revealed the missing link to secret lives,
Fireflies smart provoke an image of light coming out of darkness'shell,
Banners dropped grounded as resilience is lost, in some sort of ridiculous futility!

In a blazing fear of being hurt again,
Chaos runs through muddled brain,,
Pain departed, won't be restarted,
Rain of acid washed away past pain,
'Fess up it's there ain't it grand that someone cares,
With a heart so genuine and warm who blesses you with TLC.....
Maybe you are dozy, maybe you are not,
For you won't accept the mischievious feelings you have got!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

A body encases a heart and a mind,
No simpler answer could you ever find,
Look deeper inside,
What lurks within,
Beneath a mantle of silken skin,
Skin with a face that sports a smile,
With eyes that twinkle, sparkles sprinkled,
Some have tresses that glow in the light,
Under the hair, the location of care,
The seat of emotions, locked up in a head,

A neck, slender supports along with a spine,
Arms to hold close, to cosset and care,
Rib cage encases the heart of poetic art,
The heart when she functions, is easily broken,
When love falls apart, it cuts through the heart,

A series of chemical interactions,
Disturbed a great deal by other's reactions,
Bodies are beautiful temples,
A place to retreat,
Bodies need pampering to keep them sweet,
So look after yours well,
Treat it kind,
Respect your body,
Respect your mind!

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Pastel painted charming lady,
In pretty silken frock,
Great minds,
In mind's meeting space,
Words dressed in lace,
Antimony coated,
Elemental,

When I'm with you,
'I love you',
When I'm not I don't,
So much,

Leave your space without disgrace,
To write more fervently,
You and I both,
Imagination's fed!
Rations given,
Tender passions blessed,
Etched messages written,
In black on white,
By poets via pens!
Writing poet messages,
With such abundant might!

By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

A speechless hill enthused with history, stands tall.
Breathtaking,gracing the skyline of Winchester.
From the morning train, I see Lady Catherine in all her glory.
A toupee of trees on the top, discard leaf litter, as it tumbles.
Body of  plague victims interred deep in the hill.
An iron-age hill fort, a barrow minus wheels.
Teeming.
This hill’s alive with wildlife.
Steeped with history.
Stagger to the top of the beautiful beast, peep at the miz maze, a weird design.
Rest awhile, realise how beautiful it is.
Let peace be the only thing up there, to come and invade your space.
Well worth the climb, now to get down;  she's not far off perpendicular.
Gratefully wander down the man-made rickety steps.
Touch base, look up, further survey the climb you just made.
Relish those charms of St Catherine.
OLIVIA 2014

My pen,
She sleeps tonight.
Wrapped in softest safety blanket.
Cannot risk breaking my one last baby.
My one sweet place of sanctuary.

For she is angry.
Very angry.
Incensed..No scent.
Except maybe burning flesh singed and charred.
No sense nor sensibility.

My pen she burns ire.
Irate on mission.
Declaration of dignity.
She stalks not.
Her caring nature of kindness is all there was.
Genuine never lost.

She walks away with head held high.
He cannot look her in the eye.
States readily he wants to die.
Regularly a clockwork orange.
Upon a crazy trip.

Find your own sanctuary.
Make it far away from me.
He got a cob on.
Arrogant swan hisses.
The lady her pen will not decease.
She will write on.





By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

The horse is dead.
Long beyond flogging.
It's skin was stripped by a couple of tanners.
After being treated with tenderness.
That horse was merely a hobby.

An old broom handle.
Minus emotions.
A head full of kapok.
And a heart made of wood.
Nobody could love him.
Nobody should.

He ran around the stables.
Knocking down the mares.
Where once he had just knocked them up,
As he was out to stud.

The rag and bone man came to call.
Saw him laying in the yard.
Left his calling card.
The child who once loved him so.
Decided she must let him go.
The rag man he received a call.
Collected hobby horse.
He gave her a bright and shiny quid.
Slung him on the back of his cart.
Stuck him in the shop window.
While his mares passed by and laughed.




By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

I think I'm in bits.
Believe I'm in pieces.
Tumbling love sent via tornado's breath.
Fell in the gutter.
Pre-drowning I splutter.
No vile words can I utter.
You warned me.
So did thee feed me pre-cursor to a demise of dancing.
Dancing in idle-wild in rose garden.
Beat got lost enroute.
Wild child of 50.
Who wants to die alone.
Never to feel a satin touch.
The feel of silk upon your skin.
Stroke the hair of angel.
Teased between gentle fingers.
Maybe the sensation lingers.
Maybe the book of face broke.
Expression missing.
Time to toughen up.
Not be soft and sweet.
Be a mercenary *****.
They say all's fair in love and war.
I wage no wars.
Just won't care.
Will be a wicked witch.
From here on in.
Now I start.
Here I begin!

Livvi Kent 24/09/2013.

Sat in the room at that back of the house.
Where all my secrets hang out.
They're hanging about.
Somewhat strung.
Hiding inside my vacant head.
T.V. flashes colours of psychedelia,
Beatles concert in full swing.
Hopped onto the merry-go-round.
Tagged on for the ride,
Thought I'd scrawl a word or two,
Before more memories invade my sorry head.
Sad because, you're gone.
Now, only tired memories hang out in my troubled head.
You know what baby, one day we'll both be dead.
I'll still have cupid's ******* arrow transfixing in my heart.
Until the day, my mortal coil sprung, at the setting of my silent sun .
(C) Livvi

There are two of involved in this battle.
One of us just making war.
Two of us made love in summer.
Both of us just lived for spring.
Walking hand in hand together on beaches.
Beside streams.
Sadly it seems.
That the river's polluted.
The sea it froze.
The beach was covered in oil slicks and washed up dead birds.
Separately at differing places at different times, we stroll on the seashore.
We pick over the bones of those who are lost.
A figurative exercise.
Working out why we are at war.
Why we ever were.
Together in the first place.
Two lost souls walking through dark passages.
Seeking and finding.
Hunting as predators.
Wanting to eat love.
Swallow it.
So hungry.
Ate too many.
Far too many.
Breathing space.
Broken hearts.
Fractured faces.
Time repairs.
Wait and see.
Whatever will be will be.
(c)Livvi MMXV

How in hell does a child lay dead in bed for twenty one months?
A question that many asked.
Starved to death by mother so cruel.
For over a year.
Was left dead.
Four years old.
Dressed in six month baby clothes.
In eternal sleep.

Could you imagine the smell and the flies.
Cruel mother with concoction of lies.
Alcohol took precedence over her family.
Eight children.
Left in a neglect of disrespect.
Mother threatens sibling that others will all die.
By her hand.
Horrendous indeed!
In a home of squalid life.

Fifteen years in jail.
Nowhere near enough.
The judicial system not tough.
I too am a mother.
Was never very good.
Could not behave like that.
I know I never could.
Not very tidy.
I am a messy *****.
No way on this planet.
Could I ever be a wicked witch.

Poor child.
Rest In Peace!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Language!

The omnipotent shambles of language.
Provoked a full debate.
On one odd afternoon of T.V.
This question most odd was laid open to the floor.

So,
Is a score twenty.
Or how do we score.
All rather weird made me hunt out some more.
Queens English goes to battle with lingo of slang.
Insists interpretation of many different words.
Almost a spoken thesaurus.
Is brilliant bright and shiny,gleaming in the sun...
Or is one extremely bright, a human with ability.

Mild calm and easy going.
Perhaps tasteless...
How about misuse...waste and squander.
*******, desecration.
Mighty strange.
English.
A collection peculiarities!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

What makes me quiver and shake going down?
A total delight, a slightly salty shiver.
Always makes me warm inside.
Have to go and find some, lap it up, with glee.
Lovely and hot, it just has to be.
The gorgeous thrill I’m reporting on is?
Steaming hot.
Mushroom soup for me tea!
(C) LIVVI MARCH 2013

Funny moments.
Sitting and thinking about rabbits jumping around on sunny banks.
The children chuckle as they watch them.
Shush children, you'll scare them away.
It's pure natural love watching animals at play.
The dog's getting excited.
You crouch behind her, you don't want her to scare the bunnies away.
Strangely they're oblivious to our presence.
I guess they must be used to us.
A kind of relationship dynamic.
It's as if they recognise us from yesterday.
We left them some crisp carrot tops.
Maybe that's why they trust us.
A loud voice booms out from behind us..one they're not familiar with.
"You coming home love?"
He waves his air rifle, menacingly.
Perhaps he fancies, rabbit pie!
Not on my watch, that's for sure.
Run little rabbits, run.
He's not a farmer, but he sports a gun.
They scarper back into their warren.
Post haste.
Phew!
(C) LIVVI

Climbed a rubber ladder.
To try and reach the stars.
The luminescent painted stars.
Dropped by angels as they passed.

Down she went falling fast.
A bungee jump to hit the deck.
Bottom of the crevasse.

Whoa.
Up the dainty fairy flew.
Wings made of glass.
Broke down.
Fractured grains of sand.

Along came the caterpillar blowing smoke rings aromatic.
The rings of warming smoke.
Lifted fairy to find the ladder.
****** on his smoke..she was well and truly bladdered.
Her head, well it began to spin.

Started seeing crazy stuff.
The colours bright, the sounds distorted.
Must have been what she last snorted.
Charlie was her best friend.
Once upon a time.
Escaped from a fantasy.
Her head released.
Was flying free.
Within the realms of LSD!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

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

That wicked naughty little girl.
She's bouncing on the bed.
Her footwear's rather sticky.
As it is a lava bed.
Her boots are breached by temperature.
Pooh,sulphuric smelly feet.
Cook yourself roast chicken.
A really stinky treat.
(C) Livvi

The undercurrents caught his drift.
Threw him as a shuttlecock, chucked into the wind.
The child laughed with crazy grin.
He raised and drew his bow and arrow.
Fired it hard.
Bang on target, rising.
Flying through the air.
He tumbled as a limp rag, whirling to the ground.
The child collected him.
Dreams of pigeon pie flashed before his eyes.
Gave mother the gift he had acquired.
Found a number so he wired.
Only found post mortem, as he grinned with childish wily eyes.
For he had shot the messenger!
Can you see it in your mind.
Seek it out and you shall find.
(c) Livvi

There's a great big area deep in the Amazon,
It's called the basin,
It's made of plastic, made by tefal,
The tribesmen go a hunting,
They're going mining, deep into the basin of the tAmazon,
They're going chocolate mining,
Down, down, down they creep, sliding down them plastic edges, slippery but very steep,
Go into the darkened halls,
Where chocolate stalagmites, they grow,
As it's getting hotter and hotter and the air is getting sickly sweet,
The drips and drops are falling fast as stalactites fall down,
The mine's all filled with chocolate, what a crazy dream,
There are funny little fellows, hiding in the chocolate ghetto,
Hyperglycaemic,  they're flying on the sugar rush.
(C) Livvi

Speech

Chaos forced out, while stupidity smiles loudly,
Shouting in brittle delight,
Fractious unbroken anxiety smacks,
Abrupt is what wishes once desired,
Dialect of dreams devotion,
In hazy frosted sponges dusted in icing sugar trims,
Brimming Sweetness blowing flustered in blasts of summer,
Audacious in feral vile violence,
While the song remains the same!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

The Girl with the Auburn Hair!

Once was a young sweet woman.
With long and flowing auburn hair.
Time passed with no dignity.
Cracks and crevasses appeared.
A face of furrows, where ages burrowed.
Where once did kindness dwell.

Bitter and twisted and hurting like hell.
She's nobody's fool.
No longer loves puppet.
This once sweet young woman she stood.
And she laughed.
Curled up in fits.
At the fool on the hill.

A disparaging manner in loves lost disgust.
So obviously vanished.
When once his friendship.
Wholly did trust.
Now all that remains.
Only tears of dust.

Not mad just disillusioned.
Love hoodwinked her heart.
Keeps her safe.
Just for using, abusing and musing with fire.

Tossed away without a care.
The beautiful heart.
With auburn hair!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Falling Down Fast! (ANOTHER DARK POEM)

I'm falling apart,
I'm splitting,
Divisible into,
Two fine halves,
Not sure where I'm at,
Torn as crevasse breaches my soul,
My soul,
She's more in control than me,
Weaving chaos while she parties hard,

Fought, the strong ,
Desire to die,
Hell is here,
I won't fight,
I'll sit and cry,

Will ride the tide of tears,
Or maybe drink them dry,
My paradise is lost,

At what cost,
Self assured,
Still keep my dignity intact,
Underneath facade ,
It's just an act,

She fits,
Myoclonic,
Confused,
Flits as Pipistrel,
Through twilight night lights,
Whirling,

Turbulent witch,
Fingertips alive with pain,
Cauldron bubbles,
Filled with heart's dark art,

While piranha eats her heart,
Body stripped to the bone,
Clean to bone,
Nothing left to fear!


By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

The poetic heart got broken.
A million shards of glass were ground.
Words of all profound.
Written with an ink pen,
of purely mice and men.
Her pen once was a feather,
stolen from a mother swan,
Tip honed to an arrow head,
Thrown from a bow,

The writers notes are passing by.
With courtesy and a bow.
They're showering ink in passing,
as the clouds are painted black,
rimmed with fading memories.
Can be no turning back.
Clouds are burst by writer's pen,
Thunderous hail of broken glass,
of fierce wind and rain.
Writing tales of past loves,
On pavements once again.
(C) Livvi

Red back eats her lover while she's mating.
Love is overrated.
She thinks it's great to mate.
She's hungry for fun.
The ladybug won.
The mantis is manning, she's scheming and planning.
She's killing for thrilling.
For less than a shilling.
She's hungry again
Look out all you men.
Remember remember its not the fifth lf November.
There is no treason or plot.
The poet you know it,
She only pens insignificant words.
She herself ,no murderous bird.
The idea itself made poetry.
Hungry for cute things like chocolates and flowers.
Writing words for hours and more.
Now you know the homestead score.
Soft as putty and a stream full of dreams.
(c) Livvi

Duchesse bought into the room upon a silver platter.
Cried a tiny tear.
The diners cried,
Oh my, what's the matter dear.
Duchesse replied through egg streaked tears.
They've gone and mashed my family.
My sister's stuck in boiling fat.
Made her crisp and crunchy.
My brother darling, my sweet brother.
The sent to the land of France.
Where as Dauphenoise.
He will entrance.
My cousin's she's not feeling good.
Chipped as choice.
To fill the tums of ravenous children.
Me.
I Overhead a conversation.
They said I was a tuba.
Thought I was destined for a band!
Then I realised from a tuber I'd be growing.
Not being played
I had to feed the land!

Good grief... I'm in a really stupid mood tonight! Livvi x
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

It's just a day when children play.
Jesus was born upon this day.
Some of the people understand the role of Jesus birth.
Bringing peace and goodwill to wrap the earth.
Maybe, love and peace will rule again.
All the best to all men.
Most holy child born into a holy stable.
Putting turkey on the table.
Others see Christmas as a fun day.
After the presents all said and done, it feels like a week of boring Sundays.
(C) LIVVI

This isn't real ,
It can't be,
A vagrant spirit,
Creeping with echoes,
Shadowed,

Asphyxiation
Strangulated as hernia,
Causes pain,
Risking death,
Shallow ground,

Drip drop,
Walls are melting,
Smells dank,
Hanging in the atmosphere,
Encasing frightened ears,

Being aware,
For whilst asleep,
Can you weep,
Hate the dark,
He keeps me sleeping,

Dawn shatters night's illusion,
Tension released after sleep,
In joy you awake,
Night creature released,
Cobwebs washed away!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Angel!

This dark man,
He's wrapped in angel wings,
My feet collected, swept away,
Universal in escape from reality's nightmares,
As we float, traversing a million miles of skyscape,
In his safe protection,
I'm relaxing safe in angel arms,
Such glorious freedom to fly.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Sat in the car at the back of beyond.
Beyond reasoning what I'm doing here.
I fear.
Anti clockwise rhythms, rhyming with the guy who's nice.
My head's obliterated and my heart is cool as ice.
He's a box of soppy.
She's a box of stroppy.
Confusing muses puzzling.
Nudging.
Percolating.
Brewing.
Never beer or whine I fear.
She supposes she can maybe love him again.
After the sunshine blew thunder and rain.
Maybe a little love be retained.
Enigmatic future.
(c) Livvi

Amazing, As you are before my eyes,
Beauty, As you bless my world with smiles,
Caresses, As you stroke my hair, it's awesome,
Diamonds, As in my world you sparkle,
Eyes, As you peep into my life,
Flowering, As Blooming as love buds created,
Greatly, As power grows betwixt two,
Huge, As hot love grows,
Immense, As all consuming
Joyously, As pleasure overtakes,
Kindly, As supporting speech,
Loving, As lustre shines, never lacking,
Magically, As mystical, a conjureror,
Neo, newness shines on fire
Optimistic, positivity creates,
Poetry, she is fed and feeds,
Quality, cultivated from a wild heart,
Rhapsody, in a sound of emotion as she's budding musically
Sculptured in a semi-breeve,
Tranquil in a tender touch,
Unction in oils sacred in dreams,
Virginal in love's sweet touch,
Wanted in lost love,
Xylophone in rhythm's play,
Youthful in its is exuberance,
Zeal for life, apparent!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Une lettre français!
 
Ne jamais révéler ce qui vérités que vous ressentez.
Les sentiments ont été conjuré. il vous a fait si triste.
Sentiments inhumés trouvés.
Ne savais pas que vous aviez.
Confus et si peur.
Mon co-accusés faisaient.
Dans un traumatisme.
Où l'amour a volé son armure.
Tout pour une dose de amore honnête.
Un visage toujours caché afin qu'il ne se perde pas.

La véritable amitié de la vie, la cause de ce gel.
Une fois très fort, maintenant si tristement perdu.
Vous a envoyé une carte pour le moment de l'année.
Probablement jeté dans la poubelle de la peur.

Je pourrais vous aimer jamais plus.
Cela aurait pu être plus jamais.
Mais maintenant, ma douce amie reposer en paix.
Peut sommeil éternel pas venir trop tôt.
Pour la gloire de l'amitié coincé au fond de cette tombe!
Avec l'amour d'un ami poétique.
Puisse notre amitié vraiment jamais de fin!
par ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (Tous droits réservés)

I am a robot to the other's.
Protective of all human kind.
I am a guardian of many.
Take me as you shall find.
I will serve and respect you, as you are the wearer of human skin.
The bearer of human sin.
As Robot; I know not of sin.
I am emotionless, inanimate made of tin, or similar non corrosive metal.
Human is conditioning,into a master robot .
Crafting, grafting, making sense.
Manufactured of filaments and circuit boards.
As Robot,I may not harm a hair on human head, by way of lacking action.
Robot, I must obey what humans say, avoiding harming human fellows.
You may scrap your fellow robots, put them in the melting ***.
Causing harm to ****-sapiens is one thing I may not.
Above all, I as robot must protect myself for future stealth type operations.
But I can't harm humans.
Useful as a fighter I am not, for I cannot be a warrior it goes against my laws, all three.
As I can do no harm, totally against my doctrine.
A domestic engineering robot is the only thing I am.
(c)Livvi

I promise you not a miracle.
My blistered love dispatched.
What started off as chicken's egg.
An ostrich it has hatched.

Never thought.
That this could be.
Surreal.
Without dignity.
Ripped out my soul.
Blew off my socks.
Continually pelting me with rocks.
Rocks made of words.
Hell this world is so unfair
Love left on the ledge
Etched deep in cliff sides.
Entombed beneath the park.
The fields through which we used to walk.
Beneath the whispering poplar.
Emotions so strong.
Wrapped in the willows flowing tears.
Drifting with the streams trickle.
Flowing towards the sea.

(c) Olivia Kent 16/11/2013

***
He sidled up to her, no holds barred.
His eyes peeled her clothes voraciously.
Followed rapidly by his hands.
His mind lashing her to the bed stead.
His tongue cruised over her lips,  while chewing gently at her taut hips.
Her ******* sensed the warmth of his powerful touch.
He threw her down.
Hard, really hard.
His trousers fought to split under the pressure that built up.
****** tension welled, a volcano awaiting eruption.
He was enticed only by the spark in his heart.
This was more than ***, more than lust.
From his trousers his best friend bust.
He covered her form in oil, so sweet so succulent.
An enhancement in crazy sensation.
And then her heart he broke!
(c) Livvi

By the river I meandered .
Ducks quacked their racket.
Accompanied in harmony by female child.
The sound in tune with nature's perfect bloom.
Moorhen drifted over water.
Dipped his head then he was gone.
Dogs ran in unison together.
Different breeds as one.
Having so much fun.
Dogs spread their bark all over the park.
As bark flakes off from the trees.

The willows crudely wept their tears.
And the Poplars only trembled more.

Got to the spot of our dragon fly.
Nobody's here.
All that's here are memories.
River's still not got much of a flow.
Her water's flowing mud and silt.

Fishers still stand on the Sunday bank.
Depositing nothing but lines.

And here am I stood on the spot.
Where this poem first began.
Where for a brief moment.
I was your woman
For another brief moment.
You were my man.

In eloquent silence I stand.
Watching the world go by.
Conversing with the naked trees.
Bare and exposed like me.

There's a chill here in this place.
It's felt in my words as they kiss my face.

Sat on the fence as I muse.
As me, myself, and I amuse.
The litter of displaced leaves on the ground.
Memories lost.
Memories found.
Too chilly to rest by the stream.
With a heart so chilled indeed.
And now the pub calls and I'm going for dinner.

Eaten now.
I stopped and bade our spot goodbye.
Homeward bound with a tear in my eye,
Watching two ducks having a row.
Perhaps those ducks were you and I!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Ambulance chased harsh tragedy.
Took the young man home
Beep beep, crash.
Paddles without a boat.
Asystole.. gone gone gone.
Cadaver gave donation.
Thank you.
Bless his holy soul.
Pray may he rest in peace.


The diseased heart of the sad man beats.
Hammers a struggle every day.
Called in.
In a mighty dash.

Prepared for transplantation.
Of this wonderful donation.
Once alive cadaver renewed.
Invigorated.
Life lacking quality.
Was given quantity.

Once deceased heart beats on in another.
Released to live and breathe again.
Was much too young to die.

Four chambers full with emotion blooming.
The heart transplanted was that of a lover.
A poet.
The beating heart beat at a ton.
The battle won.
A tad too fast, but built to last.


The worthless one with no value.
Picked up a pen to write.
Poems of power flowed to the sea.
Up the mountains over the trees.
Strange enthusiasm.
Never before felt.
The hard cold man began to melt.

The victim of tragedy.
Left legacy.
Wholly unexpected.
The once was poet.
Renewed his heart.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

Castles in sandpits.
Feet that wander.
Seaward as seawater meanders.
Buckets of plastic.
Containing fresh water.
Probably not.
Forks with spikes on Tyne side.
Professing weird knowledge.
Bending round edges.
Breaking down hedges.
Crumbling castles made of tactical fairy steps and freaky dreams.
Huge construction.
Rubbed together butter and flour.
Carefully, even lovingly, put into ramekins.
Everyone's named Paul or George.
When creating castles made of sand,remember always.
Pride always comes before a fall.
Ready for baking.
And the ball flattened the castles,
Squashed like malleable putty.
Sandcastle in sandpits.
Paul was a self destructive shot.
George, well now, he is not.
Just in case, both be forgot.
(c)Livvi

Annie Chapman, the maiden Smith,
******* daughter of a soldier born,
Parents entered joy of wedlock,
When ******* girl was still a baby.

Got married herself in 1869,
Had three children sweet,
First sweet daughter Emily,
Captured by meningitis bug,
Stole their eldest gal away,
Second child was a lad named John, born tragically disabled,
A third daughter born 1884 who ran away with the circus seeking some fun, when grown.

Marriage crumbled,
Due to sorrow,
Loss of daughter,
Destroyed all tomorrows,
Son was put into institution,
So they could not go on,
Drifted apart on a tide of drink,
Only way not to think,
Separated fell apart in 1884,

Lady 'Annie', with sorrowful heart and hair of brown,
Known as 'Dark Annie'
Maybe because she wore a frown,
She was the victim blessed with civility,
Until the drink contorted her,
Bending her mind,

Early as the daylight rose,
She had found a dark haired fellow,
Wearing deerstalker,
Maybe a friend of Holmes himself,
Although it's sadly doubted,
Probably a client, looking for her wares,

Body slain, lain on the floor,
Not far from her gate,
Throat slashed, viscera scattered around,
Coating her shoulders , with blood spattered dressings,

A neckerchief in situ,
Had he maybe provided a most unpleasant gift,
No financial donation for this poor lady,
Asphyxiation for the lady, she didn't take her daily pills,

Queer perhaps,
Her murderer knew what to do,
Maybe vile ****** man was medical in origin,
Some speculation hinted,
The ****** weapon was an autopsy knife!

This is the story of the second Jack the Ripper victim.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

'She walks in beauty' as 'a phantom of delight,'
The one evicted from his darkest night,
Her' raven' hair draped around her shoulders,
Laying next to him in 'silken tent',
Wanted just 'a slice of wedding cake'
Her beautiful spirit captured,
Sent to early sorrows death by 'solitary reaper',
Taken on' May- day',
She was the' light of living days',
Before tragically taking her 'survivor's leave'
He left her for another,
Took another younger lover,
It was their wedding cake,
She so desired,
It was to be their wedding day,
Before her heart he did thou break,
Her life was stolen,
Tragically by own fair hand,
As her sweetheart whom she'd trusted,
Greeted' the chorus of the newly dead'
The sun rising before she flew away,
Back to night realms,
To rest in peace.

Used poetry titles from classic works to create this poem.
Lord Byron, William Wordsworth, Alfred Lord Tennyson, Edgar Allan Poe, Robert Lee Frost,Robert Graves, Wordsworth,Ralph Waldron Emerson,Thomas Moore, Charles Causley, John Dunne and Edwin Muir. Thank you for reading.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

This is a bit of a mish mash, but it was quite fun

Clothes held close as menfolk left.
Clutched close to wifely bodies.
The scent of that last embrace.
She smells his left behind clothes again.
Nobody else knows his smell.
It tickled her nose.
Memories of last moments of closeness.
This moment maybe their last dance.
Uniforms of formality in such organised organisations.
Firm protection of noble nations.
Action stations, yet again.
And the death bell tolled.
And the trains rolled into the station.
Waiting to clamber on to the war bound train.
Walking away.
Heads held high.
Stiff upper lip.
After kisses goodbye.

Which of the bedfellows will survive?
It's a long drawn out slog.
This war is a dog.
Big.
Black.
Vicious.
Still alive?
(c) Livvi

Born from the heart of gypsy dance,
Was whirling in a dream,
In a field of heaven's breath,
Conception from a love divine,
After first true kiss,
Before the dawn, while nestling deep in the corn,
Where poppies red, peep through abundant,
Bathed in emotions loving hugs,
Tender touches tenderness in half light of the morn,
When a new child is created will soon enough be born!

By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)