A row of tabs with titles in hiding,
Each one a witness to the weight of today
The clock ticks louder, each second sharp,
Echoing the resolve she’s forced to obey
When did life slip into this solemn tone?

Her hand hovers, drawn to a magazine,
Its cover untouched, still crisp and clean
She peels it open, and there it is—
The faint smell of paper, a balm for her soul.

Not pages of profit or the season’s couture,
But the world of Bobo, the blue rabbit and friends
Bright illustrations, laughter tucked in each corner,
A refuge from journals and theories that age her too soon.

Here, she remembers a simpler time,
A decade past, when her world felt lighter
This magazine, still standing, still waiting,
The same one that sparked her love for the written word.

She smiles,
Because even amidst the seriousness,
A pause is enough to bring her home.

My aching limbs and heavy sighs,  
as morning light hurts my weary eyes
and every movement feels like a chore,  
as time slows from the weight of it all.

Although every step may feel like lead,  
and thoughts of rest fill my weary head;
I'm determined to try anyway,
with a will to rise and seize the day.

©️Lizzie Bevis

In a world of mass production
Creativity is gasping for air
Everything is accessible, looking
Identical to your next-door neighbor

Where are the artists?
Where are the seeds of creativity?

Let us light a beacon of hope
In an age of templates and clones,
Let this beacon of hope burn
Brighter than the sun;

Do not lose hope, A resurrection of
Creativity is upon us

In this world of capitalism,
we're driven by consumerism.
We act out of a sense of entitlement.
At times, we order others like a servant.

We think we deserve our rights,
and just for that we'll fight.
Just so that we can win,
We'll raise our voice and create a scene.

In our competitive society,
There is so much emphasis on productivity.
We end up becoming exploitative.
Can the outcome really be positive?

We need to think carefully,
if we can live with ourselves comfortably,
when most of our gain,
is built on another's pain.

Perhaps we should really see,
that we're not much different.
You and Me.
There's so much more that we could be.

Be the change that you want to see.  
To others, they might be somebody:
A daughter, a sister, a lover, a wife.
Please give some honour to their life.

I wrote a poem today
And now I feel better
I was productive and courageous despite the weather
I see on Hello Poetry that I am not alone
It's cured me of the shake and shiver in my bones

Got to do something with your life
or you'll have no life to live at all
Spent my time ******* about whatever came around
But no matter what you do, there will be something
something worth ******* about
So better do something good and enjoy it
or you'll realize when you're dead and gone
and they're singing your song
well...
******* is all they will have to sing about.

Don't you feel, it's time to feel good

       enough time wasted on negativity

that was a phase, a perished past

       gone - disintegrated into nullity.

Experience engendered a refined persona

       & it's time to fill that void with productivity

The road will always be as rough

       But your soul will strive for positivity.

perfection is a myth that we try to overcome
anytime, we can do our thing without pressure
certainty might not always be on our side, and
it may take time to gain strength, will, and courage
nevertheless, let perfectionism victim none of us; let us
grow and succeed within our own ways and time.