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Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
England played today, what a ****-up grandiose style, glass bottle like hail flew down on Marseilles, water-canons, all kinds of crowd dispersers, true grit on the former great, now belittled, nation-state in d' hood reduced to a pitch with 20 idiots running around kicking about Charles' 1st head, and too fidgety skeletons tagged to A.S.B.O.S. tags playing puppets in a rectangle... i stopped watching the match for a cigarette break, the free-kick went in, Saturay, Tesco closing at 10pm, i took to wearing an Australian Open t-shirt, i've never seen so many funerals drinking a beer on my way home - prior it it was all gorilla chanting and Tarzan... i only learned of Tsar Putin dipping his ***** in the **** of Crimea a few minutes later.

your typical Saturday night, next door  neighbour's
trying out an alt. Y.M.C.A. with disco funk,
i guess it spreads easily this day, feel the grooves
or lined Rodin - ape-**** up my *** -
music so loud coming from my neighbour's canopy
i should be asking for canapés - after all Euro 2016
kicked off, scarf-hooligans of Moscow made
Marseilles home-turf , two Brits at the draw
in hospital, faces kicked-in, real bulldogs,
asthmatics at the end of it - conversation turned into a tour
of the Cairngorms or the western outlets...
a lot of Scottish impromptu with **** **** freckles!
gee ginger! aye fucky ***** ****!
Anglo users love interchanging the vowels for emphasis
to differentiate geographic regions -
but this one book review got me -
entitled ***** state
by a feminist -
the ugly child abusing father is a punter -
listen, if it were't for prostitutes i'd be a priest
7 years in, acne on my Richie, one ****** in,
kiss on the mouth several times, hell, the guilt trip,
poor boy poor girl, skin cream lubrication,
talk of doctor's appointments, ******* a *****,
i'd get the Scandinavia model if the girls weren't fickle,
the hand is hardly a plastic surgeon of the female
genitalia ***** - bony M... you must be talking
about ******* - ***** M...
Jesus no more the son of god than the patron saint
of prostitutes... the poor guy feels the aches of touch
while the rich boys sushi off a stripper in Billions...
i don't have strong dialectical encouraging to dispute
or discuss - i too am too blame, ask my dermatologist...
so my neighbours threw a party,
on the set-list?
Cheryl Lynn - Got to Be Real; Oliver Cheatham,
Get Down Saturday Night; Edwin Starr - Contact;
and then the one off from One Direction - History -
the DJ suddenly experiences the jitters neurotically
changing songs before they finish - midwestern horror,
Ohio or Iowa hammer masscare, excerpt from
Pink Floyd's anti-fascist anti-educationalist march,
dangly on the Cenotaph -
persona qui umbra-grata (person agreeably welcome
as a shadow) - yep, me and the ex_machina routine...
i know the feminist argument smocking pipe handy
clean for more pages, but ever hear a ******* ******
or laugh with you? if i didn't use up the profession
i'd be the buying type abusive father forever,
who the **** needs **** trips when the moment can please
twos? i'd be up against a Cosmopolitan Magazine Quizzes...
the "perfect boyfriend" types, later coverage in
psychological advice columns... but wait...
all that ******* advice about something being indestructible
in us, about us, beginning with this keen appeal to
atheism already defaults a logic behind the essential
characteristic of the existence pertaining to a psyche -
by destroying god we also resolved to more easily disqualify
the in-destructibility of the soul,
constrained, a study of noumenons, with logic application,
as if with the omni- prefix to the non-essentials of god -
logic destroyed the compatible qualification of soul
ownership, reduced, it gave us the advent of prayer
and the necessity of a god, rather than our selves,
via souls - something without deductive parameters to
cursor and pre- of the experience quickened to
argument with dis- and later -qualificatio;
the кaцaпс fought with Mongols... you think there's
a fair bet for your hooliganism in Marseilles?
well... it all boils down to two identifiers of nationalism:
parade with the royal family near St. James' park
or gut a pig in the south of France...
Wales will not bow this time, given that they're
not getting paid for their national pride dribble,
they'll ******* up... make more adverts with your superstars...
strange that, well, America has idiosyncratic sports,
i never understood the cheese-ball of oval either to the throw -
yes, baseballs makes more sense than cricket,
but you have to understand rugby before you
start crowdsurfing your *** in nappies -
the high expression of nationalism is so Joker-faced
with the Windsor ******, nationalism and a king never match
up to how Mao or ****** would have it...
and the alternative is football hooliganism...
i walked for my whiskey and beer just after the 75th minute,
along the way i met so many funerals, donning my
Australian Open T-Shirt... well, you, know,
a different type of spectator sport - i heard the rabbis
of the oval where deemed cricket tourists when kicking
a penalty through the H architecture -
cricketers are tourists, oval jerker-offs are Wallabies...
Australia in the Eurovision song-contest... oh yeah,
i'm mad... mad about Abba.. Matt in Memphis,
an Eve Cassidy moment, Sia's chandelier cover-up,
the truest form of plagiarism - the cover is better
without all the computing morphings...
oh sure, i could play the dating game...
9 years in and i had two authentic ***** in my day...
one was a black single mum who took me back
to her flat in Stratford, dragged her baby girl from the bed
to the floor, and her baby son, didn't want me to
penetrate her, tucked my **** in between her thighs,
i stopped, was woken by her son in the middle of the night,
took him and laid him on my chest and we fell asleep...
so yeah, prostitution is ALL BAD... coming from a theorist
who hasn't experienced the drudgery of lives "unexpected"
via eventualities akin to Chernobyl... given that the most
paranoid nation scared and scaring others concerning
a nuclear holocaust is the only one to set two off... two!
Pearl Harbour was an army attack on an army base...
what the Americans did was just a very quick Holocaust.
~
February 2025
HP Poet: Lizzie Bevis
Age: 40
Country: UK


Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, Lizzie. Please tell us about your background?

Lizzie Bevis: "Hello Carlo, So, my actual name is Elizabeth, but I have always been known as Lizzie since I was a little girl. Elizabeth quickly became my naughty name if I got up to mischief! I was born in Lincolnshire, England a month early in November 1984, I was meant to be a Christmas baby, but I did not want to wait! That was a smart move on my part. I have 2 brothers and a younger sister. I am the second oldest of the brood. I also celebrated my 40th Birthday last year quietly with family and friends.

I also love unicorns. My best friend Samantha often tells me that I should have been one because I am just too nice. Oh boy, I am going to try my best to condense this down as much as I can because I can write for England, Carlo! I have not always lived in Lincolnshire, I lived in Yorkshire from the age of 1 until I was 8. I was sad to leave my friends behind when we moved back to Lincolnshire to be close to my grandma who I adored. My lovely mum is sadly not a particularly good cook, so when I was 10, I told my grandma that my mum overcooked pasta to mush again, so my grandma discreetly taught me how to cook and bake on weekends. I quickly became the family cook, and I think that everyone was relieved!

I was independent in my teenage years, I got myself a paper round at the age of 14 and got my first proper job at the age of 17 in a shop and started saving up my wages. I was also quite sporty growing up, I enjoyed playing football with the boys, and I eventually became an FA-qualified football referee. I also discovered archery, and I became a Grand National Archery Association Archery Instructor. I also wanted to climb mountains, so I did. My first mountain climb was Mount Snowdon in Wales, I then went to Aviemore, Scotland to take on the Cairngorms and fell in love with the outdoors all over again, I remember seeing the Northern lights for the first time and they were breathtaking.

At the age of 19, my adventures took me all over Europe, and I visited Italy, The Netherlands, France, and Spain. My travels eventually took me to America where visited the Rocky Mountains in Colorado and I climbed up Pikes Peak; I then changed direction and toured New England. I enjoyed New England so much that applied for a 3-month work visa, and I became a head archery counsellor at a Summer Camp in Rhode Island, what a fun experience that was!

Going back to my childhood, my mum’s family hail from Yorkshire so living there meant that I could visit my aunts, uncles, cousins, and my grandpa. My grandpa used to work in the coal mines so naturally his lungs were in a bad way, and he was in and out of hospital most of the time. This was a life-altering moment and at the age of 4, I decided that I was going to become a nurse when I grew up. I would visit my Grandad at the hospital dressed up in my nurse's costume and help the nurses on the ward do the little tasks like filling up and distributing patients' water jugs and chatting with the patients. Grandpa would always give me his strawberry ice cream, he said that he didn't like it, but I could never understand why?! I have many fond memories of those days.

Ironically, I learnt that some things are not meant to be. I enrolled in university to study Adult General Nursing in 2015 but made national media instead for all of the wrong reasons; In July of that very same year, I had a cardiac arrest when my mum's little dog Daisy was put to sleep at the veterinary surgery. After surviving my brush with death, I spent 3 long weeks in hospital, and I was diagnosed with Long QT Syndrome. I also learnt that stress kills and that Adult Nursing was probably not the best career choice for me! I am now Employed as an Adult Care and Wellbeing Advisor and love every minute of it."



Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Lizzie Bevis: "I have been writing poetry since I was 11 years old, I was inspired when studying my English Language & Literature GCSEs at Secondary School. I remember the first poem that I ever wrote, it was called My Dog Sam.

My Dog Sam

He is as fast as the wind
Running through fields of green,
He is the smartest dog that I have ever seen.
He is black and white, an epic sight,
With eyes so keen and a mind so bright.
My Border Collie, my good boy Sam,
My loyal friend who understands
Every whistle and all commands.

By Lizzie aged 11.

At the age of 12, I had my first poem published in the National Poetry Anthology and I have had many other poems published since. Writing poetry has become a refreshing pastime, and I am often writing about something daily. I have been writing new material and adding my poems to Hello Poetry since September last year."



Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Lizzie Bevis: "Inspiration for me can be as simple as an experience or emotion, it can come from a joyous occasion with family, feeling sad, being in love or from something far less complex; such as when reading a book, looking out of my bedroom window in the morning or walking through the churchyard. One of my poems ‘Epitaph’ was inspired by walking past a worn gravestone when I was visiting my grandma to lay flowers on her grave. I am fortunate to live in the Lincolnshire Wolds and be surrounded by history, rolling hills, farmland, and picturesque countryside."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Lizzie Bevis: "Poetry, personally for me is an outlet for creative expression. It is healing and it is cathartic. I find that I can write about anything on my mind and feel like a weight has lifted afterwards. I can convey my feelings and emotions freely. Poetry can be emotive, startling, inspiring and thought-provoking. I feel like I am giving my readers a little sneak peek inside my very vulnerable soul. I also like to experiment with humour, it makes a nice change to try something different sometimes and I enjoy making people smile."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Lizzie Bevis: "The first poem that inspired me to begin writing was a poem called 'I Am Very Bothered' by Simon Armitage. Being from Lincolnshire and living a hop and skip away from the birthplace of Alfred Lord Tennyson, it would be rude not to include his wonderful poem - 'The Splendor Falls.' I have enjoyed reading and have been inspired by many of Maya Angelou’s works in the past, I recall reading this poem to my daughter when she was 5 years old – 'Life Doesn’t Frighten Me.'  Alice in Wonderland was one of my favourite books to read growing up, here is another one of Lewis Carroll's splendid pieces of work - Dreamland. I was also a science geek at school and was fascinated by Physics, Chemistry and Biology. I love the work of Sarah Howe, and this is especially one of my favourite poems - 'Relativity.'"


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Lizzie Bevis: "I am a woman of simple pleasures, I enjoy spending time with my family, and games night is always a blast! When I am at home and not working, I often listen to music or watch a good documentary on TV. I adore my cats Timmy and Sooty, Sooty is a sleepy old boy now, but Timmy is such a rascal and there is never a dull moment at home, he has recently learnt how to open drawers! I also like to pass the time sitting in my armchair (usually with a cat on my lap) next to my log burner to work on the occasional embroidery task, and I do of course, enjoy cooking and baking lots of delicious treats, which I usually share with my family, friends and neighbours. I love being outdoors, I often go on long walks, breathing in the fresh air, and clearing my thoughts."


Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much Lizzie, we really appreciate you giving us the opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet! It is our pleasure to include you in this Spotlight series!”

Lizzie Bevis: "Thank you Carlo for taking the time to plunge me into the February Spotlight! I would also like to thank everyone who has ever shown me kindness, support, and encouragement on Hello Poetry. You are all a wonderful bunch of poets, and I feel truly blessed to be amongst you. Keep writing and keep your visions alive because, without our creativity, the world would be a very dull place indeed."




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Lizzie a little bit better. We certainly did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #25 in March!

~
rebecca hunter Apr 2015
I find it strange when I arrange
To go anywhere else but here
All over the map – how 'bout that!
Now I'm here, then I'm there, “every-wier”

Yes, strange, I say, how that on one day
You're looking at the Kommetjie sea
Then, in a few hours, you have the power
To be up the Cairngorms to ski!

I find it so foreign, like the look of a sporen
To imagine going south to north
But when I arrive – Heathrow Terminal 5
It just took a plane, of course

When west up the south coast of Africa
I look on the map back t'ward home
I think “How on earth did I get here?”
What a strange thing it is to roam!

If only I'd time, after this rhyme
To travel further more often
Perhaps I'd acclimatise - become more climate-wise
And this strange, creepy feeling would soften.
Mathew Anderson Apr 2018
When you visit the Highlands: go to the place with enough mountains to widen the eyes.

Scotland’s precious: Cairngorms.
Many a traveller comes along for these sights.                                                          ­                                      

Rolling grass fields are its skin, the trees its hair and bristles.      
Look with your eyes, and feast on the banquet of wild all around; all you can gaze.                                                            ­                        

On the top of everything are white tops that hardly melt.  A touch of winter left behind.

If one has enough patience, you may see a beast, big or small.                                                           ­                                                 
Squirrels in the trees; nuts. A herd of deer: does, fragile and docile.                            
Or perhaps a buck, strong for his herd.              
Ruler of the sky: the mighty eagle,                                                   
who catches his supper from the water.                                        
Lucky enough and you may find a wildcat; a rare find.

Bogs are what soak the land,                                                            ­      
as are the bonnie lochs, ice cold water from which mysteries emerge.

— The End —