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Come find me on…

With the school holidays coming to an end I will finally (hopefully) now be able to start making teeny tiny bird size steps towards taking my writing and blog in my chosen direction. This starts by letting you guys know of the different places you can find and interact with me. So, come find me on….now, i’m told I should do this often. I should self promote and scream about the different places that you can discover and interact with me….i’m crap at this, so instead this post is created roughly every six months, so here it is, the different spaces on this amazing web of infinity to which you can find me. Wordpress is such a great place for blogging and I do love it. However it is completely pants as an interactive platform and for this reason me and my lovely writing can also be found on…google plus

I also have a facebook page just for my blog,

 

 

and you can also put up with my ramblings over on twitter.

 

🙂 Karen…

Between the
opposing vines
and strangling ivy,
under the
thorned blackberries
and
spite filled Holly
lays the
naked undercurrent
of my thoughts,
battling nurtures
insects and natures angels
And we are
what we create
in the devils flames,
branded souls
whimpering for the deed
they long forgot they
up and sold.
Once an angel
always a whore
Echoing in the broken
beads of thoughts
taught
on a death man’s wish
once brought.
Don’t you see the
shadows that suffocate
feeding from the sins
I’ve sort,
Yeah, once an angel
always a whore
pacing the sinners
catwalk shore
I am my flesh
do as you please
I am my gasps my moans
desire and lust.
I am nothing more.
Once an angel
always the whore.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image found on WordPress free library

Aside the listless waters edge

Aside the listless waters of time
reflections fractured now stilled
in stagnant whispers of bleak void
an endless stream of magic borne
wars fought and promises sworn.

I see the contours of my soul on waters edge
Shimmering beneath the debris of existence
Illuminated by my darkest light
It reaches from out the depths of hell
to sooth the speckled witches spell.

But alas, I am neither elemental nor
celestial,
nor am I sister to Lilith or a soldier of the dammed
I am the waters curve, the rippled playground
as dragonflies dance upon my skin
stealing precious nectar for their King.

I am the reflection the mirrored voice
the distant echo of ancient blood
essence skimming on luna tides
the silent eyes suffocating in vivid blues,
drowning in the scent of knowing truths

I am the fractured, stagnated waters
curdled by minds descent
I am the Illuminated body of tides
empowered for my ascent
I am the lucid astral plane
the love of which you dreamt
I am the reflection, rippled in pain
I am the reflection, owning my pain.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image and words

Speckle me in dandelion seeds and set me free…

She’d always known she was the Weed, the wild flower growing between the cracks in half shadows of doubt. Never had she wanted to be the rose, except perhaps its fragrance and its soft hues of summer promise. But, no, she was the daisy growing wildly between lush blades of green grass. She was the dandelion dispersing seeds of herself on the evening scent of burning wood and she was the white clover, although she’d never admit to the fourth, petal shaped leaf that she hid beneath her smile.
Yes, she was happily the weed, growing in adversity, weathering the storms and nourished on the remnants of life. Surviving between crackles of static in rigid rips of concrete and across picture perfect canvasses where the roses stood, lonely, untouched, their wilting petals decorating the floor with death, their scent dying, their pollen stolen from beneath the blush red velvet blanket of their existence.
No, she was the white petals of survival, the yellow flesh of stubbornness rooting her to a cause, she didn’t need admiration to grow
Wild flowers need no nurturing
they simply exist between the vines
of splaying ivy and fierce troops of nettles, speckles of colour weaved between the muted greens of a druid yesteryear all myths, ancient remedies and calls of luck, the wild stems of hope growing in the dark shadows of dying rose petals wilting without whispered promises of entitled worship…

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image and words

Lose me in tender touches

Will you pull me in?
Gently press my cheek
to your chest
Curve your fingers across
my hip,
skin on skin.
Will your fingers slip
through strands of
my hair
As your leg slips between
my thighs…

Will you let me fall
for a moment,
be nothing
for a millisecond
Just let my soul
rest,
safely in the cocoon
of your arms…

… Before I rise
once again.

Karen Hayward ©2018

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The ancient pull of aura

It tugs at me
pulling at strings
caressing thoughts
embracing shadows
There’s a part of me
that isn’t sure
a part that coverts
reincarnation
pondering
synchronisation
not peas in a pod
Noooo
Not similar
not the same
More like two
sides of the
same coin
Yin and yang
a mirrored reflection
Yes, the same source
and the missing parts.
There’s a part of me
that isn’t sure,
that we haven’t kissed
before
on times path
along some far of
sandy shore.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image from WordPress library

Haphazard whispers of love

*Shh*… ould we?
I mean can we?
I’m tangled in a web
of your desire
caught haphazardly
on your tongue
the curve of your voice
as it entwines through me.
Can we?
I pull at the ancient sticky
essence that seemingly
binds us
I wonder,
were we ever unbound?
I sometimes call
defiantly into
the dark abyss of stars
like I did that night.
And you always answer
as you did that night…
my defiance quenched
for a moment.
Yet I still find
myself pulling
and tugging
at that string…

… I guess it might snap.

…or I might discover
your soul has been at my
side the entire time.

Only one way to find out.

Karen Hayward ©2018

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