Through soft static,
the silence hums,  
as a steady tide,
where chaos succumbs  
and white noise swaddles us
in its soothing embrace
drowning out the clamour,
creating tranquil space,
tuning into the comforting drone,
as peaceful slumber finally comes.

©️Lizzie Bevis

Dim lights spill across
a room almost desolate.
The fridge hums alone.

To exist in the present moment
is to exist in contentment
to command no extremities of emotion
and take deep breaths calmly.

I felt content today.
Like I’ve walked along a bay
with fresh salty sea air and
the wind gently pattering my face.

I felt like I’ve stepped along a shore
leaving no trace
in the sand.

Like I’ve welcomed
the embrace of the wild wind.

And, like a child,
laughing and smiling
and tumbling in the crumbling sand
without a care in the world.

Except the present moment.

Be the Raindrops, that fall from above.
Bringing peace to Mother Earth.
Be the Clouds that hang in the Skies.
That shades Us right from Birth.
Think yourself, as the Morning Dew.
That brings green, to the Trees Around.
Be the Calm, that follows the Storm,
So the Water...Waves, without a Sound.
Smile like the Rainbow, After the Rains.
Let Sunrays, light up your Beautiful Soul.
Be that helping Hand, to those in need.
So Life....Loves U, on the Whole.

When I lay awake in bed, I envision
My pillow as a comforting polyester lap
Lightly cradling my burdensome head,
That I may cast aside all prior worries, and
Momentarily forget that tomorrow exists:
I confidently close my weary eyes, and
Gently drift asleep.

A tattooed man, burly and grey,
twists his hemp-fiber rope.
He thinks only of this cable’s lay,
not of wistfulness or unfulfilled hope.

His skin is bronzed and deeply creased
echoing the waves of the sea.
The grey wisps of his forearms’ thin fleece
recall thousands of mornings misty.

His thick fingers grasp like old iron anchors
as his mind glides through his tasks.
He pays no heed to the long-faded cankers
on his worn body from times long past.

Silently he furls the white canvas sails
and stows the great ropes below.
He calmly swabs with a mop and a pail
all the sea salt on the deck white as snow.

The now naked oak masts still rise to blue skies
as seagulls circle and sing their own lay.
But the sailor man hears not their cries —
He turns the capstan: Anchor aweigh.

The oaken ship now glides at slow pace,
adrift on the wide open waters.
A smile takes shape under grey beard’s lace:
He seeks the hand of Poseidon’s daughter.

He’s the last of the crew on this ship of the line.
He sails to be one with the sea.
He waits in calm as the smell of the brine
signals his new bride has welcomed his plea.

Ages hence a wreck will be found
with just one skeleton aboard.
But upon one bony finger, a round
gold band shines out like a vast hoard.

In the dark of the whispering nave
as rosy incense blesses the scene,
old hymns once sung in chanted waves
still sail through hearts of choirs unseen;
Dimly lit by a sanctuary lamp red,
the altar lies in stony repose:
a throne for him who for all bled
and wished us love by the Holy Ghost.
Streaming, rippling ocean hues
with light washed bluer than Jonah’s whale
flow from stained glass richly imbued
by a Jewish hand with swirling detail:
This sturdy house is a bobbing ark
floating through our tempestuous time,
marked by a seagull who soared and embarked
on making his art for all sublime:
to fulfill the promise of rainbows above
for all those who seek the light of love

Had a chat with my cat.
Now how about that?
She spoke with a twitch of whisker
and slow blinked her eyes to whisper
that she’s feeling quite content
to be in this moment.
For though she’s told me her life story
of all the times she’s been crowned in glory
by defeating her toy mice —
which is really not a vice —
it’s in the here and now
with no sweat upon her brow
that she’s glad to becuddle me
and from worry be wild and free.
Watch her fur belly rise and fall
and her purr keeps me in her thrall
as I scratch her fluffy chin
and feel peace spread within.