Month: March 2017

Unbelievable existence. 

When i stop believing in the 

unbelievable my existence will 

become nullified, void, a universal 

meloncholy, the celestial skies will 

cry as angels pause  at the sudden 

silence embracing them. 
Karen Hayward*© 2017

Image and word’s. 

I want to walk barefoot upon the moon. 

I want to walk on the moon, 

bare foot with universal star 

dust dancing through my tresses. 

I want to stand upon its naked form 

and stare into the blackness. 

I want to sing among the stars. 

I want to look back at earth 

see Gaias true beauty from afar. 

I want to swim in lakes of moon light, 

naked and unashamed watching numerous 

suns rise across my horizons. 

I want to wear meteor did upon my dress,

skimming my knees a full circle

that twirls as i walk, 
teased by the breeze. 

I want to ride chariots of the Gods, 

traverse the skies in the simplicity of innocence
On the blood of purity. 

I want to walk bare foot upon the moon. 
Karen Hayward *© 2017

I’m feeling kinda okay

Here inside my box. 

I’ll open a window, a door,

But i hide,

Like the sly fox. 

I linger in shadows watching 

The world, listen with 

A poets beat,

I don’t know the meaning 

Of defeat. 

But i do like the silence,

The empty echo

And the fragrant scent 

Of honesty.

So i linger in my box,

Peer from the door,

Reach from the window so 

The breeze can Dance

Through my hair.  

And the sun whispers,

Come on out your shell my dear.

The moon filled with excitement

Giggles and chortles….

‘Its a dare.’

And I’m left mumbling, 

That’s not fair! 
Karen Hayward*©2017

Technicoloured essence. 


…And when the grains fall and life 

ebbs within the final beats

As angels call the finest greet, as 

clouds disperse and memories flow,

What will you have to show? 

The fearsome tales of love so close,

A life lived…Well most?

A bucket list of words not said, love not told,

A constellation of getting old.

Monochrome map in hues of safe

Kept moments never run late. 

A drawer of wishes, dandelions delight

Dreams reserved only for night? 

Not me…

The angels will invent new colours in my name,

They’ll blush with pride at this spirit untamed.

Their ink will run dry as they scribe my tales,

The wins, near wins and even the fails.

With fearless exploration I will devour my days,

No feeling will pass where i do not say…

Passion will be my ink, love will be my pen

And the angels will all whisper….”and then?,” 
Karen Hayward*©2017

Image and word’s.

It is…

It’s what can’t be seen…

The lessons learned, ones

Still to be earned upon old scars

And new blood. It’s wisdom shared 

knowledge left, promises meant

clarity of understanding. 

It’s an egoless existence 

Truth uttered on new winds with

Ancient voices.

The reason behind choices…

It’s what can’t be seen. 
Karen Hayward*© 2017

Image and words

When lingers the hint of bad dreams on the minds tongue. 

Sleep evades me as twilight calls to me deep within my dreams. The ancient whisper of darkness taunts me from inside the shadows It’s cold fingers clawing at my skin, vivid imagery seeping g into lucidity. A starless sky the dark side of the moon searches for new souls to capture, a feast upon which deaths rapture. Sleep has become but a distant echo in the void of today’s existence. Some days my insomnia is so very insistent. 
Karen Hayward*©2017