For no man is wise on words alone and alone no man is wise…

An explosion of necessity
No man is wise on words alone
Come closer
let me lick the essence
of your soul and leave a trail
of iridescent glitter through transcendence of thought
so I may gently touch your lips
on whispers of a dream
Do you feel it?
Within the frequency of beats
curving through the
array of numbers,
right there,
that haunting feeling of nearly a kiss…
there flies pans shadow dancing
through the ethereal,
an astral dance of
need vibrating through linear time,
he searches for his Wendy.
I’m sorry,
am I the catalyst of sense that
spills chaos,
for every word learned
I have a kiss that tastes like stars,
a touch…
Tell me please,
what is that sparkle within your eye,
even within the creation of a
hybrid race, there is always
a dominant gene that will prevail.
Tell me again of how the world is
formed through numbers and words, pliable existence,
so I may slip between
your fingers
knowledge spilling through
atoms of energy.
Show me how the universe works
and I shall capture its flavour upon my tongue and share with you its taste.
For no man is wise
on words alone
and alone no man is wise…

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words

Grandmother Beldam

#wordprompt#beldam

Rot mutating at the very core
churning entitlement disease
an epidemic of waste, as eyes
die and skin becomes mottled.
Souls decaying between the
silent beats of a ravaged war
whilst ancient wisdom falls
from the page one letter at a
time. The conceptualisation
of ideology lost in the sphere
of thought. I am, I must,
I therefore… We have become
the beldam of humanity,
with blind eyes, scarred
hearts and jars of pickled
morals aside our broken values
left to soak in the bitter tincture
of ego blessed in whispered
incantations of pride.
Yes. Humanity is this worlds
Beldam.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Silence engulfs me…

Selene, do you catch the broken
fragments of my thoughts,
reminiscent echoes
of ancient days frozen
in the paths of time.
My soul has aged in
days gone past
twilight has become
my refuge.
The ungodly hour of devils fun
is scarred upon my wings
in mottled greys
of solitude.
Shhh, do you hear
the way my heart beats?
A broken rhythm
perhaps, or maybe just a forgotten
hum…

Karen Hayward ©2017 

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Sung beneath my stars

…so it’s 6:00am, vodka knows your name and in the devils hour guilt whispers back your shame and so it is you plead, strumming fingers till they bleed, don’t you worry bout the distance
you sing between the tears. And fragments they have shattered yet you’re singing that I matter. Vodka rushes down and words begin to slur, the line that we had drawn has once again become so blurred. So you sing, songs of old and new, on the guitar that you do play you whispered on my sunrise, that our future is okay…and hey there Delilah you tell me in the dark… Hey there Delilah, you sung beneath my stars.

Karen Hayward ©2017

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Muted hues of another day…

For a brief moment my smile fell as I pondered worth,
and instantly I saw this bird.
Between dying leaves in muted greens
Purest white and peach of cream.
Colours so rich and vivid
Symbolic of a life well hidden.

And I am five, colouring, sat alone
when I discover navy blue and peach spell home,
A moment of surreal calm among my storm
How is it that a colour makes me feel so warm.
Like then, but now I know take heed
symbolism is the ageless seed.

My energy divinely sent runs low in the devils grasp,
I wane beneath this crushing blast..
Won’t you walk with me in pastures old?
Where silence whispers in a tongue of gold?
Would you see and know and understand?
As I pull of shoes to feel the land.

I pause beneath a moon lit sky of navy blue
hear the forest call and think of you.
I need pillows filled with feathers covered
In pink,
Purple, blue and green a place to talk but not to think.
To stop let go and feel my soul
In natures hand so I feel whole.

Would you sit with me among the trees?
As the scent of earth entwines with me,
Watch through broken branches a sky of stars,
And ponder numbers, distance and life so far.
Would you sit with me and hear the earth
and love me hard till I see my worth?

Karen Hayward ©2017

When twilight knows my name…

Where are you when the twilight hour is upon me? Darkness lingers across my skin where your fingers trailed, dreams within. No illumination marks my sky,
Droplets of my love are carried on Selene’s tears as she spills moon beams across your night calling to you in sleeps lullaby.
For a moment, a mere wisp of time we share sleeps quarters, we traverse between the worlds, fingering the thin veil of hope… Perhaps we can share the same dream. Sit here upon this log, beneath sun filled skies and watch the horizon spreading hues of our essence wide across the universe…

Karen Hayward © 2018

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I am a speck

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A am a speck
Star dust.
An atom.
A mass of atoms.
A form created into structure.
Biological evolution.
I am a gender.
A stereotype.
Flesh, bones and grey matter.

And for the longest time the world’s axis stopped spinning at this realisation.

I am a speck.
An atom among atoms.
Star dust with an
ancient soul,
I am my reality
Living within another’s
surviving in a country
among countries on
a planet, among planets
Within a universe…
I am a speck.

Karen Hayward ©2017