Month: August 2017

. . . and if raindrops were kisses.

All Alice/karen cox.... Alice in Wonderland

If seconds were miles you’d be only hours from me and kisses would be promises made sealed on lips made of love and eyes spiraling into the oceans depths of always.

If the ocean were only a puddle I’d wait bare foot in warm springs, mist carrying to me your smile on passions embrace our laughter dancing between the falling drops of time.

If time were linear and this dimension melded with another I would hand pick our time lines crossing our paths in ferocious braids, braids braiding into braids.

If loves true divinity is the marking of our spirits chaos, cyclonic
grains of sand will slip through oceans neck into the palms of open hands sealing dreams of old, paving dreams of new.

And if the miles were seconds I’d own your kisses, if the oceans were puddles you’d taste my laughter, if time were linear and dimensions crossed our paths…

But they are… entwined and in moments blessed the miles disperse into split atoms caressing the curve of my hip on your tongue as kisses taste of a love divine…

For our souls know nothing of miles only beats within the chest, fluttering rapidly.
Our souls know nothing of oceans or falling rain just the shared essence of hope. And perhaps deep within our psyche we are learning spiritual truths
on the unseen essence of love.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image found on Pinterest.

 

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Raindrops, the drowning in my hair

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There is a silence before rain
falls hissing through atoms,
empty, threatening, soldiers
of nature crashing into life.
But what of the blood that spills?
I grasp at the lose threads
of my soul as it splits with
each drum a blunt knife
tearing hearts chambers.
I count in my
mind how many foot steps,
one for each sting of thunders drop.
One hundred? Two hundred?
I estimate five hundred.
Five hundred shards of my soul
scattered through petrichor.
The earthly scent is a blessing
and a curse defined in your heart.
Your heart. . .but does it beat now
rapid screams of need? There
goes another shard, sharp and
glossed in maternal lubricant.
If only I were your belief. A hero
powered by the Gods, mutated
chemically, born to other planets. . .
I could slow the rain and calm
the orchestra of blood playing
in your ears. I could transmit
messages across the surface
water, manipulate cloud and
envelope you in protective fluff.
My wings would stretch the
earth in search of you, my
soul would scour the universe
as my spirit caught claps of
thunder between the falling
droplets of rain.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image and words

Whispering wisps.

IMG_20170727_193140The trees murmured of our love
long before the leaves whispered
our ancient names. On births
creation a constellation of
speckled veins traversing,
passing, rushing, yearning…
passion stirring, paths crashing.
Entwining energies, stoic
thread of silver calm, stitched
perhaps by Zeno in days before.
Are we the calm or the storm?

Karen Hayward ©2017

Summer dreams.

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Skin wore the essence of summer,
Kissed by waves, embraced by currents
A taste of salt and golden glitter.
Hair a tangled web of curls
Yellow weaves of Destiny
ocean eyes deep and fierce.
Those days were our making,
Druid souls seeped in Poseidons kingdom.
Bare foot stamping our mark upon this world,
etched forever into spirits
energised by Helios,
soothed by Selene
caressed upon those shores
by the oceans ebbing love.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017
Image and words

Wandering the echos of my path

Mágico ! Absoluto !!! Prova de nossa insignificância diante do poder, leveza e força do Universo !!!! RCRº

I watch in perfect silence
Shadows, shadowing
my shadows you do not
see, I am a bird hidden
in a tree, I watch, intently
as the world passes
haphazardly.
Intrigue when you look
at me, who I might be,
potential, you wonder
if I see, perhaps I will
tell my tale, my story.
I’ll weave poetically
Entwine majestically
Life’s realities, aghast that
this is no fantasy.
But where would I start
for you are right,
I’m still to believe that
this is my path.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017
Image found on pinterest

An inferno of need.

Photo

It starts at my very core, there at my center,
deep within my sacral.
Not a gentle, subtle whispered kiss
of bliss, oh no, It’s an inferno, a blazing
storm, it takes hold, flames
through me, a moments combustion,
lubricated response to dampen the
fires of desire. A matrix of sensuality,
ancient coding mapped on the aged
parchment of my soul, the hidden
symbolism of spirit that you finger
your way through with the knowledge
of a blind man searching his memories
for lost vibrations of once known directions.
A flamed insistence spreads
through my responsive cells,
blood reaching my surface needing
to caress its master as searing heat
flushes and blushes, intensity rushes.
My limbs curl, search, draw in,
crouching, anticipating the onslaught
Implosive lust, explosive need…
It all starts at my very centre,
an inferno blazing through
me, an ancient need responding
to its one true master.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image and words