Month: March 2015

Screams of the savaged soul.

I really shouldn’t wonder,

and I really shouldn’t care,

your voice comes to me like thunder,

and I know that you are there.

I try to keep you locked away,

to keep you out of sight

but, my dear, you will not stay,

you beg me for the light.

I whisper, as the night does come,

and beg of you to hear,

the moon, i say, is now your sun,

come here, and hold me near.

But alas you cannot stay

in this dark and empty life

as you cut all that’s in your way

with your double bladed knife.

The silence is too loud,

the shadows are too dark,

stand tall and make us proud,

it’s time to play your part..

And I do not know their faces,

or the words that they do shout,

I’ve seen them several places

but, what are they about?

They offer me salvation

from the darkness in the night,

an end to the devastation,

and the promise of the light.

Karen Hayward (Copyright) 2015.

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Delilah’s army.

This is the story of my amazing niece Delilah and her beautiful family, please read it here, Delilah and here.

Delilah is fighting cancer, her family and friends have become an army of supporters ‘Delilah’s army’.

Please head on over to her facebook story and offer your support, show Delilah she is not alone. Together we can beat cancer.

Follow her Dad’s twitter story here.

This is her fundraising page here.

And this here is the little princess herself, looking beautiful as always.

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Tales of the deviled soul.

Horns and a devils tail,

a promising tale,

of the ship that set sail

in a sea full of scales.

Not swallowed by a whale

neither white nor pale,

and they left no trail,

no where to send mail,

their lives for sale,

but they did have a tail

of the devils horns

and his little red tail.

What the World Taught me About being a woman.

When I was four, the world taught me what it was too be a woman.

I needed long hair that flowed and curled and shined radiant in the light.

I needed dresses and skirts and floral shirts,

of yellow or pink or red or peach,

these are the things the world did teach.

When I was seven, the world taught me what it was to be a woman,

Cross my legs be quite and calm smile always and say yes mam,

Always be clean, no mud, no worms, no running no sunning

no speck no hair no tales to share, for I should always

look radiant and fair,

this is what the world, chose to share.

When I was ten, way back then, the world taught me what it was,

to be a woman,

Wear high heel shoes, and fish net tights,

stay up doing my hair till at least midnight,

Lipstick and mascara and a rosie blush

the world used to whisper, this is what to do…

cover your beauty with products so lush.

When I was twelve,

when I was sixteen,

when I was twenty

the world taught me what it thought, it was too be a woman,

I had to follow not lead, sleep but not dream

smile but not scream,

It taught me to hide behind a costume of sorts,

to never reveal my inner thoughts, to smile and laugh,

because that was my place, I had no ticket for the real race.

being a woman, means not being free,

this is what the world, taught me.

When I was four, my Dad said, it’s just bloody

hair that grows on a head.

curly or straight short or long,

it’s just bloody hair,

there is no right or wrong.

When I was seven, my Dad said,

as I built pies in the mud that covered

my legs,

smile and be happy, shout and scream

do as you please,

just never be mean.

My Dad said, back when I was ten,

dress to please you, but never the men,

You don’t need lippy, mascara or blush,

you’ll get there, there’s no need to rush.

A real man loves what hides in the heart,

don’t be an actress playing a part.

When I was twelve, my Dad said,

jesus christ what ya done to ya head,

No soft curling rolls, or radiant hair,

jet black, he said,

they’ll surely all stare. He smiled, but you

do not care.

When I was sixteen, My Dad said,

be careful out there the world is mean

listen to me, i’m old i’m wise and all this I have seen.

Wear what you like, but wear it with pride,

this is your life, you’ve a ticket to ride.

When I was twenty, my Dad said,

I always knew, you’d get ahead,

not scared to be you, there are but a few,

the power was coming the women were new.

This he said, he always knew.

Karen Hayward (C) 2015