Sensuality of a blank canvas.

There’s no space on the page where my words can settle without burning
the sheet to ash. Speckles of ash that are lifted into the breeze, thoughts
carried away into the universe.
There’s no way to spill the calm of chaos into a logical sentence that can
be read and understood, rarely can the light walkers understand the dark.
There’s no way to create form with a desire that walks on the edge of
nothingness, no perfect Haiku to whisper in code, or sonnet to bumpily
rhyme away sinful thoughts.
Perhaps if I had an invisible pen i could write of the desires, I could tell of
the thoughts that would make even the devil blush.
I could explore the page with a fresh energy, words trailing, thoughts
wandering as do fingers or eye’s or the passion that sits on the
lips of a lover.
Or perhaps, I can write in rhyme safe in the knowledge that the beat will
hide from sight my continual need for you.
Trivialization of such thoughts feels like a form of infedelity to myself, to
the empty space in front of me, to the blank page that can become so
much, yet begs me to not make a liar of it.
Perhaps the emptiness is better than being compliant and trying to force
delicious chaos into some form of normality.

Karen Hayward ©2015

Ideas evolving And concepts breeding.

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If I could. . .

I would spend all day writing
And all night reading
Ideas evolving
And concepts breeding.
I would watch every sun setting
and see it as a new day seeding.
True soul nourishment breathing
My psyche feeding.
Beneath moons we’d sit kissing
the violent rush of our hearts beating
My pencils scribbling
Ink of need my pens drawing.
With time true art would begin thawing
an explosion of thoughts all storing.
An implosion of life breeding,
Happiness evolving,
I would spend all day writing
And all night reading.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image and words

I sleep with the whispers of your intent upon my skin.

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I tumble daily into your essence,
sleep with the whispers of your
intent upon my skin.
Your words have become fingers
tracing the contour of my breast,
your thoughts the soft breath hardening
my nipples in anticipation of your
mouth…your lips. Your tongue, the bearer
of intent, of pleasures divine…I tumble
daily into these thoughts that
incessantly bind,
I hold you captive in my mind,
ponder the fantasy,
devour your presence,
explore what I can of your mind
and I tumble daily into your essence
sleep with the whispers of
your intent upon my skin
and the soft embrace of your affection,
I tumble daily into your essence.

KH©2017 (16.4.17)

Lilac love.

Gentle whispers embracing lilac love
I am the petal and you are the rain
I drown my thirst in your succulent taste
The red fires of passion the subtle calm
of blue, a perfect combination of
me and you,as vines weave together need

I could become lost on this ascent of
of pleasure, a pheromone fragrance of
desire, an addictive toxin rushing
through my blood,a chemical fixation
drunk on honey nectar, the voyeur’s dance
life’s perfect exhibition lustrous stage.

Silk petals love caresses lust bruises
quenching nourishment and the flower blooms.

 

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words