Love, do you hear me…

My Prince of dark sins and purest love
do you hear the melody of my heart
as it skips across the days night?
My song is for you alone the ancient
Symphony of a soul reborn and found
Life after death after life. My spirit
sings a silent song found between
the chords of our thoughts. Do you hear
it? For I hear yours, it curves around
these bars, caresses me as I sleep
it embraces my naked soul, it is hope
when skies are dark. Do you hear me,
this caged bird sings, for you, to you,
in forgotten words, and an unknown
tune, in purest lust and love so true.

Karen Hayward ©2017

For a moment I go home

I perch half naked
on the side
of my bed listening
as the evening
passes by in gentle
hues of blue
and a gentle touch
of pink. I listen.
Past the Saturday
night traffic
wheels whirring
into tomorrow
Past the youngens
swigging from
bottles marked
“one way ticket to adulthood”
Past the squabbles
of lovers becoming
Then I find it.
The gulls calling
to me from salt lined
shores, sea mist
reaching for my
soul, home.
I perch half naked
on the side of my bed
close my eyes and
for a moment
I go home.

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image and words

These are not the days of your past…

Be warned. These are not
the harmless swans of your
time, these ducks will not
quack around your feet
for bread when they can
instead devour your flesh.
No. Such days of balance
have passed, we live now
behind salvaged glass.
Oh the lulling nature of
serenity and the clockwork
beating of their hearts
as teeth gnash and wings
tear limbs. Still my mouth
salivates for what they once
were, their blood now
diseased, the chem trail
apocalypse the hunted
became the hunter. Bow
now before the Kings
of our time, death came
death took and left
only the zombie of mind.
The geese, the ducks
the royal swans. . .
the seagulls pecking still
at rotting carcases across
our desolate shores,
and so we live now,
shut behind glass doors.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Chaos in the supernova

Place me in chaos, I become chaos
ripping red holes in the fabric of time
an exploding supernova full floss
imploding at the cortex of my mind
till the darkness takes my hand in silence
and we drink to absent serenity
a dark fluid tincture of no semblance
leading to the absence of sanity
hibernating beneath quilts of labour
the ancients call to sisters singing
Pans song heard dancing in silent whispers
growing ever closer, chaos cleaving
on impact, I become space times black hole
compacting self, conforming into whole.

Karen Hayward © 2018

Image from wordpress

sky space telescope universe
Photo by Pixabay on








Sleep baby girl

My dearest angel,
the hour is late
and the journey long,
let slumber embrace you.
I will stand guard and
warm you with my arms,
steady you with my body
hold you with my hands. . .
and if for a moment a
bad dream dares to rise
I will banish it
into ethereal skies.
Sleep now my Angel
the hour is late
the journey long.

Karen Hayward ©2017

This is my demise

And some they will rise
stake claim, a silent mine,
Me, this is my demise
I hear the shadows call
feel the shroud as it falls
Naked, hiding behind a wall,
scared now to bare
fruit of liberations, share,
how? When I can’t compare.
The wobble of the pedestal
from above, I can only fall
and I slip through the half
truths of your fingers, a
silent implosion lingers.
The bound ascent of waltzing
nullified realisations.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image via wordpress