To be, I must fall, my light must be extinguished.

And when I fall, for that

Is the only way,

when my halo slips.

When my light is lost

When I must become dark

To survive.

If selling my

soul is the only

hope I have.

And if I must

lose all that light …

Will you catch me?

Without me asking.

Without me telling.

When darkness

consumes my

acceptance,

when i lose and they win,

when I become that sin.

Will you catch me.

Tell me it’s okay to cry

for the light that

must be

extinguished

if I am to be.

Will you cocoon the

shadow of a flicker,

stop the darkness

from spreading.

Will you catch me.

Will you still catch me

when I remove my halo.
Karen Hayward ©2016

The Taste of my…

And through the tender

kisses of your lips;

the need in your eyes,

the trailing of your tongue,

through the stroking

of your fingers,

through the passion in

their touch and

the caressing of your

palm.

The past is cleansed

from my soul,

your need becomes

the hinted scent

of my skin,

the taste on my

tongue, the essence

in my…

and the past is cleansed

from my soul.
Karen Hayward ©2016

There’s no…

*Poems theme, the acceptance of occupational therapy led specialist equipment for a child with neurological needs ( gravitational insecurities, ASD, learning needs) Sigh.
There’s no

preparation

for the hiccoughs

along our road.

No amount of

reading,

talking

or thinking.

No one to catch

me if I pause

and consider.

So I choose

to see this

with the same

silver lining I see

in every cloud that lands

upon my mat.
Karen Hayward ©2016

Tomorrow I’ll write my bucket list

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I’ll write my bucket list.

I’ll fill it with love and hope and pleasures divine,

and snippets of dreams that are mine all mine.

I’ll wander on shores of burning sands

explore new and undefined lands.

I’ll bravely declare the dreams in my heart,

The secrets I whisper alone in the dark.

Visions of barges, campervans and beetles,

painted creatively with life as my easel.

Petals to touch, flowers to smell, leaves to feel,

Memories to make, to make so very real.

They’ll be odd socks, purple shoes and bare feet,

thousands of wishes that truly define me.

And songs of the past played live on a beach,

and listening to you play, whilst im upon my knees.

I’ll fill my list with glorious scents from the jasmine star petals

to candy floss swirling in a bowl made of metal.

I want to see owls, peacocks and tiny white goats,

I want to see ponds where lily pads float.

I want to watch nature roar angry and sore

I want to walk through all the locked doors.

Tomorrow I’ll write my bucket list,

Fill it with dreams and things that I wish,

and there at the top I’ll scribble your kiss.
Karen Hayward ©2016

Superman

I love this poem from Ron, sometimes protecting ourselves is what we fear the most because of the destruction t can cause along the way, but in reality if we don’t become our own super heroes, who is gonna do it for us! 🙂

The Grave Yard

The power to change your life

could be as easy as

lucid dreaming

I’m a superhero!

Fighting all the evil,

in my life.

Buildings break into rubble

trivial people become obstacles

running away; you may stumble

I didn’t mean any harm

I’m just trying to protect what’s mine

I’m the villain sometimes.

Take control of the nightmare;

Face it,

and fight what haunts you.

Wake up!

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In slumber.

In slumber you are an ancient whisper caressing the edges of my existence. A divine source leading me through the darkness of reality. My beacon of love that beckons on the breeze of a lonesome sea mist. Your presence is the hypnotism of my soul I am led blindly into a universe of our own creation. In slumber you are the soft kisses on the nape of my neck, the gentle stirring of my spirit that soars across white clouds toward the dawning sun, you are the arms that hold me so I never fall, your love the strength within my wings to fly. In slumber you are the ancient whisper to my soul of a unity torn from the minds. In slumber you are the treasure I never knew I sought.
Karen Hayward ©2016

Call it what you please.

(from draft box)

And when the pain becomes too much,

when the emptiness too vast,

When the minutes begin to shatter

like crystal glass.

When the void of need must be filled

When the voice of love is silently killed.

May courage be our saviour be the truth in our pain

For it is only in deceit that the heart turns to blame.

Our existence lays beyond

Our journeys they are long,

Our spirits search the faces

For our ancient traces.

Our souls coexist within the atoms of life.

So tell me if your spirit needs the freedom of night.

My heart carries more strength than most can conceive,

But forgiveness I’ll refuse, if you choose to deceive.

The seaside lad I knew.

Whispering like a dormant field mouse,

but roaring like a fucking lion.

You loved from your soul and nothing less,

And happily fucked up and cleaned up the mess.

To be loved by you in any form

was protection, an absolute norm.

And I look at Tish,

and I know the wings you spread about her,

No one’s gonna get there,

not with you about her.

Fire in your spirit that burns throughout your skin,

A devil’s little angel always teetering on sin.

The girls they fell about your feet,

swooning, every time you meet.

You were fucking fit

And boy did you know it.

Yet to be your girl

was to be your world.

And now age has fell upon us creeping up the rear,

and murmurs of your name I do often hear.

You left us far behind, a memory of your past,

Your life began unfurling all so very fast.

Your whisper still is there, it hides beneath the roar,

and your name now opens up metaphorical doors.

You reached beyond the skies,

never scared to stop and try.

You walk another beat that drums to just a few,

you’re a nutter, braver still,

but always the seaside lad I knew.

My world.

My world is a constant

whirlwind pulling

me in a thousand

directions.

Except now.

Now I listen to the radio

In the background as cars

whizz past. I listen to the

heavy pull of my daughter as

sleep pulls her in. I listen

to the rhymythic purr of my cat

as he spreads himself across my

neck in some random loving

gesture. For now, in this second

Naked fury.

The impulsive abandoned

rush of excitement as anger

roars through the skies around,

as nature crashes,

and our bodies entwine in naked fury.

Wave upon wave of pleasure

releasing from the core of my

being, need spilling into

my fingers, stroking, feeling.

Thirst building from within

as fingers explore my inner

pleasure.

In your eyes I see flames

of passion roaring to the

surface, yours, mine, ours.

Soaring heat burning in the essence

as it slips between my lips,

as I peak, convulsing, releasing,

as you hit the back of my throat,

as it creeps through my soul,

as I swallow it down,

as I spill across your fingers.

The essence of our souls

dancing in blind fury