When I wake 

redhairwings

When I wake from slumber in the twilight

hours I hear still your voice a soft whisper

on my skin.

An echo of need brought out from my dream.

The touch of your fingers stroking my thighs,

the taste of your lips,

the warmth of your body entangled with mine,

skin aglow,

candles flickering in the shadows,

dancing to a song of sin.

Lost moments as passion wins.

Pleasure escaping my lips in a perfect melodious

tune played by your fair fingers.

And I am lost in your eyes, in desires deep sigh.

And I am lost in your lips that devour my essence

on the tip of your tongue.

And I am lost in your spirit that whispers to mine.

And I am lost making love losing all sense of time.

Just us and the stars and a glorious moon

atomized love charged by desire,

defined on the tip of passions fire.

Image found on pinterest

Karen Hayward ©2016

Lost unto you.

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There are moments, senses lost I become

a flurry of chaotic need,  a yearning forms within

my core. Desire that transcends the simplicity

of imagination like winters mist circling

my limbs I feel there your fingers.

Tender kisses upon skin, trailing my breastbone

your breath a whisper calling unto desire

lost within your tantalizing thoughts and

teasing truths my senses become a blur

of eruptive forces, lust perches upon my lips,

passion circles my tongue, need tingles within

and I am lost, to you, lost unto you.

Karen Hayward ©2016

 

I contemplate…

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I contemplate a lifetime’s vocabulary,

the word-stock of my existence, I hunger

for the fruits of my expression.

In my mind I browse the sub folders of

reality, Shakespeares sonnets, tales

of love and tragedy.  Dickens victorian view

of love, I regard Miss Havisham

and her devotedness and broken heart.

Monetarily I ponder Estella, I pity her.

I glance through Marlowe, Byron,

Coleridge, Tennyson, Blake, Wordsworth

but alas even they have not written of

this love I have for you. I search the

lyrics of my souls melodies and listen

as the beats create chaos in my spirit.

Still I can not find the perfect way

to describe, that your love is my day.

Perhaps I’ll search a lifetime

to find the perfect way,

at least by then you’ll know,

my love was made to stay.

Karen Hayward ©2016

 

 

Among the soft silence.

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Can I live here? My aged soul

yearns for the quietude

of nature. Winds as they

whistle through reeds

as they move in

perfect fluidity,

ripples gently

dancing across water.

The soft hum of a Bee

the delicate echo of blue

skies, warm glow of summers

sun as he lavishes me in love.

Tell me dear, can we live here? Will

you give to me such beauty, such silence

will you grace my heart with a poetic life and

birds that chirp my song, flowers that bloom to my heart

tell me dearest, let us live in natures quietude,

can this be our path? Where waters flow,

ebb and stagnate and my druid soul

creates, in ancient callings

and darkness’s light,

tell me least,

we might.

Karen Hayward ©2016

(Image and words)