words properly spoken
do not need to be strewn
all over the page
as if it were
a work of art,
let the artists
paint their pictures
while we poets
put our words
one after another,
line upon line,
hoping to be heard

Must we endure guilt’s futility;
To take stock of our soul’s condition and
To release all unnecessary spoil, to
Be comforted by our Maker’s redeeming love?

i felt
happy
today

i will not
let myself
ruin it

Wisdom spills like morning light
From youthful lips untouched by spite,
Pure and simple, crystal clear,
With virtue adults long to hear.

Why is the sky grey and blue?
Why is there a shadow over the moon?
Questions that we've long forgotten,
Wrapped in wonder, freshly gotten.

They see the world with untrained eyes,
No filters yet to cloud their skies,
No prejudice to dim their sight,
Just raw perception and pure delight.

In their logic, direct and true,
Lives the insight we once knew,
Before the world grew complicated,
Before our minds were educated.

So when curious children do speak,
Their random thoughts, pure and unique,
For in their words, both odd and sage,
Lies innocence that vanishes as we age.

©️Lizzie Bevis

Slipping through the veil of night
Beneath the far-flung skies,
She flutters like a sail in flight---
She feeds her frail heart’s delight---
She turns to hail the morning light
Beneath the star-hung skies

Aurora, in Her cloak of grey
Sweeps back the shifting dark---
As dawn reveals the stroke of day
And nighttime goes it's smokey way---
The sky's deep blue now broken, frayed,
Sweeps back the lifting dark

The carpet reeks of mud and scraps of food
I can feel them crawling on me
Eight little legs, eight little eyes
Scampering, clawing, biting, digging
Through the cracks of my skin, my molecules, atoms
They’re in my veins, my brain
Am I anything? Am I gone? Am I nothing
But webs, tangled, rotten?
Cut me open. Stick a hose in my mouth.
Wash them away.
I can feel them crawling on me.