Come with me for a walk.

Come with me,

Let’s leave this place behind. 

It’s grey and mottled with hate. 

Let’s go some place, in a tent and watch the stars. 

Come with me let’s leave this all behind 

It hurts my soul so much,

Let’s live instead of dying. 

We are always dying. 

We will some day be dead

And filled with regret. 
Karen Hayward ©2016

The wait…

Minor injuries unit, they used to call his A&E we got downgraded.

I used to think nothing good ever happens in these places,

except death.



I search the room and wonder what ailments sit on these timeless chairs.

To my left;

A grandchild, bored but patient, nanny is feeling poorly, grandad is wearing sandals and socks with a  hole in the left big toe.

She’s hurt her hip, she’s alone and trying not to cry. Distracting herself half listening to the reception half watchingthe tennis paying neither any attention. 

A hyperchondriac she has a kidney shaped paper bowl beside her, we have already been here 30 minutes the bowl still remains empty. She is browsing nature blogs on her phone.

You, you are alone your foot swollen one shoe on one off, I suspect you are waiting to be picked up. You are calm on the outside….on the inside you are fearing your age.

I hate this place. 

It’s too hot.

My feet are hot and there are broken people everywhere.


This is hell.
Karen Hayward ©2016




Of a 




Karen Hayward ©2016
I often get asked about my feet pictures, I have many feet pictures. They are symbolic, my feet are what carry me through life, not people, not loved ones, but me. I am my own strength. My feet pictures are symbolic for that strength. 

I’ve got a fucking headache.

I’ve got a fucking headache and I really wanna sleep,

words are sitting on my tongue that I know I need to keep. 

Clouds are forming up above and storms are coming in,

And today my mood is simple…just fuck everything. 

I’ve got a fucking headache and it’s tearing through my mind,

I’m pretty sure when I got up I forgot i’m really kind.

And everything is noisy, and everything is loud,

I should hide beneath a shroud. 

But I’ve got a fucking headache and I really wanna sleep,

And these words upon my tongue, I’m gonna fail to keep. 

Karen Hayward ©2016

My feet walked in a whisper.


Eye’s upon the floor my feet walked in a whisper.

Hair upon my face my lips spoke in silence.

Skin beneath my clothes my body was a vessel.

Silence in my mind my soul was empty.

Darkness in my heart was my only light.

Hiding from the world was my only salvation.

Tears of frustration my only relief.

It took everything I had to walk to this beat.

Fear, the cast iron shackles.

Fear, the iron the bars.

Fear, the obstacles of life.

Fear…the sharpened knife I used to cut away

the puppeteers strings.

Fear, keeps me in the shadows.

Fear, keeps me hidden from sight.

Fear, the nightmare that haunts me on the darkest nights.

Fear, the self regulated ego for belief in the worth of the self

is invalid when whispered from my tongue

in the darkness of my self induced shadows.

Karen Hayward ©2015

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Portal of my mind. Photo prompt. 

I watch you through the portal.of my mind

as you weave indifference across the page. 

The bellwether rings, her little finger is lonesome. 

You leave behind a trail of wanton lips, lost gazes and exasperated sighs.

I slip my fingers through the safety net of words you created to stop my fall

They are written in hb pencil, I have an eraser.

I wonder as I feel the familiar tingle and pull as I search in my mind for my dark place,

Are you aware you penetrate the psyche? Are you aware when you penetrate my mind and divert my thoughts? 

Either way doesnt matter, I create a shield this time that keeps you out. I am left wondering if it worked. 

I watch through the portal of my mind, from the window seat beneath an ethereal moon.

Peter playing in Neverland.
This is a photo prompt from g+ I will link it up in a short while 😀.


Some days boobs are a nuisance.
Like in the winter when bras are cold.
Or when you think you’re in and minutes later you’re half out.
Or those times in bed when they become squashed.
Or when they jiggle when you run, dance, skip. Move.
Some days boobs are a godsend,
when I have no pockets
and want music
they are my
life saver,
neatly nestled beside lace
and milk white skin
the perfect place to keep my phone in.

Karen Hayward ©2016



This is Rupert, Rupert appeared in my bedroom yesterday.We had cuddles and strokes, no obvious injuries, he finally left the bedroom and went into the tree outside. Caught the cats trying to gobble him this morning so have brought him back in. He’s lovely. Poor little thing 😞.