In the quiet of a cluttered room,
a glimmer flickered, an idea in bloom.
I held it close, a thought so bright,
now lost in clouds,
drifting out of sight.

A glance, a turn, a fleeting chase,
I search the corners, I scan the space.
It danced on the tip of my eager mind,
now a whisper, elusive,
and unconfined.

Was it a word, a thing, a dream
or a thread of a half-formed theme?
Time ticks on, relentless and still,
as I shuffle through remnants,
against my will.

Where did it go, this moment, this spark?
Did it slip through the cracks
and into the dark?

I pause, I breathe, I let out a sigh,
in the chaos of life, as my thoughts fly
out the window or through the door,
leaving me stumped
and pondering once more.

©️Lizzie Bevis

Whiskers twitching, sharp and keen,  
prowling silently, slinking, unseen.  
With curious eyes, so alert and bright,  
investigating all within their sight.  
So lithe and nimble, quick to pounce,  
on playful paws as they bat and bounce.  
A skilful mouser, stealthy predator,  
a beast of surprise and graceful wonder.  
Yet gentle too,
when snuggled up having a nap,  
curled up and content in my cosy lap.  
As comforting purrs soothe my weary soul,  
making me feel loved, at peace and whole.  
My treasured companion and loyal friend,  
Aloof yet loving, wild yet tamed,  
my mysterious moggy a master of might,
endlessly captivating me with pure delight.

©️Lizzie Bevis

I close my eyes, and sleep, my rest earned
The day's done, let tomorrow itself worry
If my eyes yet open, lest filled with songs
I lay still, and let the day itself worry
Thus I rise soul renewed spirit uplifted
Before dawn, at noon, the next day, or never

I lost myself
On an isle of nymphs
And found myself
Only when I rejected,
Every libation offered.
Blinded by decadence,
Focused on filling coffers;
I broke for the ship
Calling to my officers.
Men, your senses are being dulled-
Drunk and high, doing as you're told.
Lucidity take hold! Freedom is close,
We need only embark
Loose the sails & start
The journey out among the stars

The rabbits sit smoking their pipes
content in their shared space,
like there’s nothing that can move them
unless they acquiesce,
like they have no better things to do
than do exactly what they’re doing
and they’re doing what they do best

- contemplate the next word, the next refrain,
the next sweep of their pen, the next throw of the clay
and the colour they have chosen to inject into the next page,
the next dye, the next stitch, beat, thread, chapter, adventure
that their maker has placed in their minds eye

and it’s then that I realise that in every moment together
they’re carefully holding a myriad of holy inspirations
and contemplating their ordering
so that beauty may abound
so that their beautiful God
may breath out yet more of the Creation.

before you find the treasure long cursed.

Where x marked a spot,
the report said a decusstation occurred,
struck a nerve and lit a will to find an answer,

to a quest, with its ions gone.

In Piracy, as in any trade,
during the long, long winters of this era's
Sixteenth Century, -- base seamanship is primary,
being as we have but this one little boat to venture in,

bubble, if you insist, a bit of life's own breath, magi know,
in fact we can dive to the bottom of the sea, from the top,
and fight our fear of crushing death, until each who does, does.

And we others can imagine,
going down, no weight, self propelling porpois- ing assist fin,
plunging past the deepest ever,
once,
knowing only I am not the first to pass out before I know
what happens, so I imagined this,
free falling below our bouancy, deep
notice, no pressure,
notice, breathing, as though, we lived in a water balloon,
and we laughed bubbles,
and mom felt nauseous.

Billions and billions of bubbles. A we bit o' cosmic foam.