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

https://plus.google.com/+karenhayward2015/posts/KQfAJp3i1Fx

I also have a facebook page just for my blog,

 

 

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

 

🙂 Karen…

The alignment of truth

What are these miles and seconds that divide
Beneath the endless skies of velvet black
On Gaia’s skin, where meadow flowers hide
A constellation, fate aligned this track
Tell me, oh, great spirits that he is mine
And I will wander the dark realms no more
Give me the soft sway of a petaled sign
Or twilight sea mist of an English shore
The witching hour calls and I hear his name
Penetrating the shadows is his voice
caressing these bleak miles and I am tamed
Love as deep as the endless skies of choice
Love knows no such distance, just unity
An aligned path mapped out by destiny

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image and words

Caught between sleep thought

Caught between two planes of existence,
slumbers promise a far of lie,
lost within the realms of my dreams
all fingers, eyes, smiles and presence,
held captive within your essence
as spectres draw me from my sleep
fingers cold dragging, pulling
gasping as touch becomes real
and I am awake, in the darkness
of eternity,
caught between the two planes of existence,
again and again and again
you are there, waiting for me to dream….
again and again and again
they are there waiting to pull me from my love.

Karen Hayward ©2018 Image and words

Photo

Has never been certain
if 5am belongs to the night
and his shadows.
A tinker, fixing the broken fragments
of my mind that shatter
on impact of thought…

… Or if it belongs
to peace of mind on morning
song bird, a symphony
of love before reality
takes another bite.

I wonder does it even matter
A moment between the worlds
the sun is yet to rise
so I sit talking to grey
melancholy skies…

Karen Hayward ©2018

They’re Catholic, does it matter?

Their love is different. Perhaps it matters.

They’re Catholic, does that matter? I say it like it does, like the cross in their window bears their souls, but where was God when she fell? Some people spill love from their pores in caring smiles and mindful nods. Her twinkle near most left that day, and for a moment I saw doubt in his eyes. He looks like St Nicholas, smiles like an old pirate and looks at his wife as though he has found the grail, I suspect he has. I suspect unbeknown to him, them, all of us, he has found that which is more holy, more powerful and more beautiful than any other earthly matter. Their love is different. The passion comes in his early morning jolts to the allotment, the way he stops at the corner looks back and waves like a mad man drowning at sea, anything to see that twinkle in his gals eye. She aged, over night, but her beauty never faded and her belief never drained. She smiles now with those sparkly blue eyes lined with tears as she hobbles past on his arm, the broken hip a memory of the past that remains in her gait, him in cut of shorts, a baggy office shirt buttoned up high and white spangly legs… They’re catholic, devout, they go to my church that I pretend to forget to attend and as I sit beneath the muted blues of an evening sky and watch him wander by I wonder. They’re Catholic. Does it matter?

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image and words

Photo

I envy them, him, their love has a pureness seen only in the final pages of old dusty fairytale books, each kiss I believe renders them immortal, spells dispersed and magic created in the enchanted presence of such a love as theirs.
Such a simple existence, a moments kiss and passion fills their auras spilling outward, exploding into the melancholy day and yet, a kiss filled with so much desire and not an iota of indecency, as though they are God’s angels, as though their love is blessed by the heavens and coveted in white feathers. They speak with their eyes, knowing glances that say, ‘ill be back soon my love, but in these seconds without you, know only this, I exist for you, for you.’ I envy them, him, her, I envy them.

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image and words

This is an observational poem on a couple I see almost daily, in the latter part of their lives now they still love each other with a pure depth, she stands at the gate waving till he’s at the end of the road, where he gives her one last wave before he turns the corner… It’s a beautiful thing to watch.

Photo

Atoms folding in

We are all broken
fragments of hope,
scattered tirelessly
through times
path across linear
dimensions
weaving through
planes of existence
here upon Terra.
Poor ageing Terra.

Then Gaia kissed life
into us, the skin
was her canvas
and the scars the
colours as Mother
painted energy
between the deep
rivets adding gentle
brush strokes of
silent hues
and vivid screams
of life.

Her paints run low now,
her waters are dry,
the air dirty,
her creation is
decaying, compromised,
the canvas rotting…

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image via WordPress