In sunshine's glow,
we wear a smile,  
yet deep inside,
we feel the trial.
The weight of hope
can feel so grand,  
but woes can linger,
close at hand.
With every cheer,
loiters niggling doubt,  
can happiness withstand
what life is about?
To be the light,
yet fear the strain,  
When the bright facade
can crack and fray.
Beneath the mask,
a heart may strain,  
for constant joy  
can feel like pain.  

©️Lizzie Bevis

I should not be surprised by the hypocrisy,
It’s not hidden, it’s as thin as a veil,
Over eyes that look but refuse to see
The forked tongue and serpents tail.
Honor is weak and integrity frail
Poisoned by lies and strangled by fear,
Bargained like Faust at a crossroad sale,
Cheaply exchanged for something unclear.
One mans dream becomes another’s tear
Common ground as fertile as salted earth,
Dead as Christ at the tip of Longinus’ spear
Hemorrhaging but without hope for rebirth.
Hope, like a waning a moon grows dark
The Future unclear down this path we embark

It must be dark
out here in the cold penumbra,
where mile after mile
no one smiles,

dots and loops,
dots and loops,
a kind of blissful nullity,
beautiful and pointless,

wearing at the edges
it almost stings,
seclusion unraveling
at the underground in us all,

aubade aberrations abound,
challenging the orthodoxy
of the troublesome
morning road,

but should this near-life experience
hydroplane toward
another mineshaft, it helps to know
less is less, not more.

In the blink of an eye,
our life is gone.
We live the days,
pretending they don't run out.

Death promises us one thing.
It is a final justice.
We beg, and we ask,
and in the end, it delivers.

Fair or not fair,
there's equality in death.
To postpone or meet halfway,
the grave is patient.

to be the kind of person
who will glimpse
the cherry blossom tree
beautifully delicate
in its early bloom
fluttering the palest pink
against a fragile white
desperate against even
the gentlest of breeze
but only observe
the black and the white
of what the premature
might mean for later
commenting how soon
these branches will lose
their graceful lustre
no longer to inspire
those hopeful wanderers
only to appear barren
and lifeless once again

Death is not a predator.
It is what was before
and what is to come.
Life is but a disruption
of eternal nothingness.
The way that moment feels
is really up to you.
Don't let darkness take over!

a gentle patter of rain
tapping politely
at the window
not tempestuously
but imposing enough
in its constancy
a passive aggressive reminder
from the heavens
of our ultimate
lack of control
such a minor obstacle
and yet it tips
the scales of
what was planned
or hoped for
to something perhaps
unforeseen
not yet considered
i thought i had
no intention of
leaving the house
but find myself
rolling my eyes
with huff and sigh
cursing the grey
for ruining
that potential

by lunchtime
windscreens glisten with
newly welcomed sunlight
reflected blindingly
from droplets that linger
despite the fresh warmth
carried in the convective air
it no longer appears
to be "coat weather"
though the ground
is still puddled
to squelch or
splash underfoot
perhaps i could venture
outside after all
with a motivation
fuelled by this
latest change
but for all the blue
stretching the sky
there is still that
darkened mass of cloud
hanging heavy in the distance
unable to tell if it has
been weathered already
or is another downpour
yet to come