he got caught
in a downpour
on what seemed like
the sunniest of days
when he stopped
for a coffee
he didn't really need
and hadn't noticed
the sky's shifting grey
he would have been
home long before
the storm came
if he had kept walking
but the torrent
began so suddenly

one of those where
the raindrops
feel enormous
every impact
an undeserved
or unwelcome
pat on the back
with neither
umbrella or coat
he found cover in
a sheltered alley
between two buildings
and begrudgingly
chose to wait

two buoyant women
elderly but clearly
not showing their age
scampered playfully
into his refuge
their umbrellas
forgotten for now
while their mood
somehow remained
remarkably well disposed
even though
those webs of nylon
had protected only
heads and shoulders
while their lower halves
had become saturated
they seemed not to care
greeting him with a grin
they chatted and gestured
and laughed

he would have no idea
what their story was
where they were going
or coming from
but in those moments
sheltering amidst
their joie-de-vivre
his frustration was
dampened
             ironically
and with a smile
that would last
his entire walk home
he stepped out into
the ongoing deluge

I want to build a sandcastle
Sturdy and tall-
With towers and turrets
And cool shells on the walls.

A tower of books
As high as magic will grow it,
A balcony glowing
When the moonlight shows it.

I want a coral garden
Sprawling wide at the edge,
With tide pools like secrets
And starfish living along each ledge

There’d be laughter in the halls,
And windows facing the sea-
A peaceful place to live where I can exist as me

Seahorses in each stable-
Pampered and content,
Turtles everywhere happy to hear me vent

And when the tide comes and sweeps it all away
I'll have no tears to shed, I can build another the next day

a whole sorrow ago
she held me
the talismans guide
bereft of speech, thieves in hand
offered to lend the body
and boy ran, vexed
crossed oft, learnt
wounds a whole sorrow
seven tales of prayer stilled
the mothers fix?

blackness of shelter
alcove of sickness
thieved inside the wars, young

learnig to speak with my tongue held,

dedication

what didn't we all notice, in the subways?

how eyes absolved, escape ironic

i am only as poems being discovered, in irish
behind a play writing unfamiliar and at war with itself
atone, ment in origin is parched is shame


to be just with my audience is to honest ones self
talled of accusation, only finding i am not knowing how to live
a world in turmoil, against dis-satisfaction attempts myself?
the improbable design of an ill conceived mind

It's raining cats and dogs today,
my tongue the cat has stolen away,
and I watch in silence as pigs fly,
then tumble earthward from the sky.
A cheeky monkey, full of guile,
pulls wool over my eyes, for a while
and as the wolf cries false alarms,
a wild goose chase begins across the farm.

In a China shop, a bull runs free,
shattering porcelain endlessly.
An elephant now stands in plain sight,
as I hold my horses and watch this plight.
The top dog lounges, cool and wise,
as others bark their foolish cries,
up wrong trees, early birds take flight,
to catch the worm before first light.

The lion claims his hearty share,
while flapping fish gasp in open air,
now, take the bull by the horns,
it must be tamed
by a red herring so aptly named!
The cat slips free, the bag is untied,
there are no secrets left to hide,
the bird now sings, a call to all,
"Oh, to be a fly upon a wall!"

©️ Lizzie Bevis

You smile as my iris go wide,
watching me stir wake to the realization
you are once again by my side.

In another life I would've jumped out of bed.
But in this one I am paralyzed;
I'd rather lay here with you instead.

Its not often we find ourselves lost to time
like this.  
A soft caress, a kiss.
Your head nestled on my chest.

You close your eyes
slipping-it seems-back into deep rest.

I like moments like this best.
Its the greed in me that ponders how to
prolong this state of superposition.
Not really asleep nor awake.
The world hasn't claimed stake over us yet.
With dejected protest,
my mortal form rejects the cold logic
that this scene- like a dream,
no beginning or end, only lasts
a few seconds more.
You yawn and I gleam how this will all change.
I feel the heat of an asteroid erasing
my world of the dinosaur.

You tease as you stretch,
something about how loud I snore.
In our sunday morning jest I see
infinite solutions,
stitched together, like the seam work
of your favorite duvet.

(With all these diverging paths,
how can I only pick one way?)

I know what's coming next,
can hear what you will soon say.
It's reverberating in my ears already
as you ponder the problem of wasting away
on this lovely,
summer day.

Your form is obscured from my vision.
A silhouette deciding between jeans or a dress.
Fighting with your hair, proclaiming it a mess.
The whole of you obscured by the wall partition.

You blow a frustrated raspberry which
makes me smirk.
Mutter under your breath,"I guess this will work."
I hear you ruminate in the restroom,
pairing accessories with a flowery blouse and a pencil skirt.

All the while humming a tune from a song
we both know.

Its time now.
Time to let that sliver of a scene we shared earlier go.
I can feel warmth through our window.
that moment I loved has grown into something new,
and I'm left with the dissatisfaction-no,
that is a childish reaction:
even though that scene is gone I know I tried.

Fully dressed in the doorway she chimes,
"what would you like to do today?"

I cover my head.
Playfully hide in the shelter of our
satin white sheets.
Shaking my head from left to right.
A seance with the ghost of where she used to be.

I can't decide.

-

so we were by the gate
under a sky of stars
I stretched my hands and she held them
and they were warm
as warm as the red berries I plucked last summer
and she smiled
laughing, she jumped
from foot to foot, swinging her head
like a lovely little puppy biting a shoe.
"I love you" she said
and I looked at her
lifting the hair that fell over her eyes
I replied
"I'm very Thirsty".

I wanted to write a poem about you.
but what can my words describe.
such a beauty in blue.
i wanted to start with the beauty, the eyes, the love that grew.
i wanted to continue with your laugh blending with your gaze in hue.
but what can words describe.
such a beauty in blue.
when all i can see is a miracle, when all i can see is you.
My weak stanzas struggle, and my pen faints.
when i try and imagine your powerful haze.
when i try to look into your playful gaze.
when i try to imagine you.
such a beauty in blue.