Oh how we love… 

I love the snow,
gloves, scarf and wooly hat,
Extra socks and a jumper or two
Squeals of delight and a Snowball fight
Cold toes begin to hurt cold hands
radiate heat, tingling fingers,
Heat rises and I feel snug
warm and glowing…

She loves the snow,
Hates, coats, gloves, scarf
and wooly hats, no extra socks,
sandals please, no jumpers mum
she begins to scream. Squeals of delight, snow on bare skin, fingers wet
cold, glowing eyes and
smiling lips, her heart
skips a beat.

We love the snow,
but hate your stares
muttered disbelief to
pretend you care. Ask,
and we’ll happily talk,
don’t stare, whisper,
and slow your walk.

She loves the snow
but she hates heat, a second
passes and she is faint,
a second more and it’s
breakfast paint. Just pause
a moment close your lips,
watch, listen truly see
I’m not about to let her
freeze, look closer,
See me touch her
arm as I wander past
see the coat across my arm…

… But mostly,
See the smile across
her soul, hear the laughter
of a spirit free and happy,
Look closly at
those pools of blue…

The problem isn’t us,
the problem is you.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Modern Bedtime Story…

Photo

(Photoprompt)

Do not judge without pause…

Our twilight hours are illuminated by blue screens

and chuckles of delight,

for you see…

my body does not know day nor night.

Atypical regulation is absent

my mind does not close at the dimming of light.

So I ask of you please,

stop and look…at our daily fight.

A pillow for one with two joyous heads

because I don’t like going to bed.

When I close my eyes what happens then?

And are certain our dreams are just pretend?

There’s no song my Mum can happily hum

that doesn’t hurt my ears,

No classic tale she can tell

that will settle down my tears.

I need her here, but, she must not touch,

Oh, I love my Mummy so very much!

Beneath the covers I feel her warmth

she does not move…for that can cause a storm!

I watch a vid and another too

but none of them are ever new!

That would be too scary

far,

far,

far,

too SCARY.

I like to know exactly what comes after

this ensures the echos of my laughter.

It calms the beating of my heart

my tablet, you see, plays an integral part.

I went to bed at seven and now the clock says twelve,

My Mum, she is reading, facts in which she’ll delve.

I know that she is tired I see it in her eyes

and all throughout the night she dreams of starless skies.

I know when time has come, she tells me one, two, three

then pulls the covers up and we cuddle…but just our feet.

And now i’m feeling safe and now I’m feeling tired

and contrary to belief I do not wake feeling wired!

My Mum, she does not hum a song or tell me of a tale

instead, she falls asleep each night, with the world

telling her she failed.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image used via photoprompt (Maricris Cabrera)

 

 

Dearest baby girl.

image

(My baby aged 2….she’s 9 now)

Dearest baby,
my beautiful lady,
I’ll love you always,
never maybe….
did you see it?
Her smile?
She understood,
she heard your
silent screams,
saw your
violent pain,
that lady that we saw,
she’ll put you
on your lane.
She wants to
help you out,
will carry a
little burden,
will be your
whispered wings
as you roar into
the skies.
Did you hear her?
She heard you.
My little lady,
my darling little baby,
she heard you,
she’s gonna walk
at your side,
help you battle through.
She heard you.
She heard you my little lady.
She heard you.

Karen Hayward @©2016

The Black Cat, Blue Sea Award.

Firstly, what a totally awesome name for an award!!

Thank you A.R.Minhas for this honor. What a beautiful award, recognising those that make an impact on their readers. Thank you so very much.

Please guys and gals take a moment to pop over to A.R.Minhas blog, just go ahead and click on the name and it will zoom you right over there.

There are rules, there are always rules :)…

The Rules are:

  1. Anybody nominated can nominate eight other bloggers.
  2. The nominee answers three questions posed by the nominee.
  3. The questions you ask while nominating can only be three questions.
  4. If any of the questions asked are offensive or the nominee simply does not want to answer, the nominee does not have to answer them to earn the award.

The wonderful questions posed to me are as follows…

My Questions:

  • What motivates you to blog?

Hm, interesting question. I think, my blog is my own, it is run by me, controlled by me and influenced by me. It is my corner of the world and this is my motivation we all need something that is our own and my writing is exactly that, I write for me and no one else and so my blog is a merely a platform for my soul to play, like a soul playground with swings and slides :).

  • What is your most embarrassing moment?

Hmm beyond blushing I don’t think I have a most embarrassing moment. We fuck up, it’s human nature but life is so much more fun if you laugh it off….perhaps my first ever smear, pretty sure I flushed red as hell for that!! Although when I think about it, as an introvert being put on the spot and reprimanded will always cause me to get embarrassed….and extremely emotional too!! But the same goes for publicly complimenting me this too will embarrass me.

  • Do you believe in the paranormal? If yes, can you describe an event that you can’t explain?

Yes, yes, yes, yes,yes, yes…I do. There are many many reasons for my belief. But the one I can describe with most clarity is many years ago I was walking to work, and listening to a bit of Roxette and day dreaming. I needed to cross a main road a very busy main road, the traffic lights broke the road into two, I had reached the mid section, and was still day dreaming, the road looked clear so I went to step out and out of the corner of my eye I saw an old man standing next to me with a walking stick…I stopped to look, a simple moments pause, as I turned to cross a car sped straight through…I turned back to look at the old man…he wasn’t there, I was alone in the middle of the road he was no where….I no longer day dream when crossing roads!! lol

Okay so nominations…..

zigzagstripes ha ha ha ha….oh your blog is so deserving of this award..a poet should always speak truth, and yours is always a delight piece of truth :).

Pawan Pawan, your blog is amazing, another slice of truth from the heart of an artist and beautiful soul.

Autism I’ve nominated your blog, because as a mum to a daughter with autism I know that it is the courageous voices like your own that is paving the way for her. Your blog is truly out standing.

Manuel you know right that I love your blog? Cos god I love your blog, it is so refreshing to see someone being brutally and beautifully honest…also i think you rock 🙂

 

And the questions…of course the all important questions…

  1. What are your future plans for your blogs?
  2. If you could travel anywhere…where, who with, tell me about it!!
  3. Worst/ best halloween memory…Please.

 

Okay, I got to four nominations, I usually do none and simply declare nominations for all…..I did good, four lol …..and for the other four….nominations for all 🙂

 

 

To my baby girl.

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Baby girl, when you were born and they placed your beautiful soul into my arms I made you, one, single, promise. I didn’t promise you diamonds or wealth, I promised the only thing I could give, love. There would never be a moment in your life when you wondered if I loved you, you would know this at a core soul level. When you was two and the doctors said, you have learning needs, I made you one, single, promise, I would become the voice you needed. I would fight every fear I have to stand toe to toe with authority, I would be your soldier. When you was five and you waltzed into that classroom, I made you just the one, single, promise, that even though you could not see me, I was there, always, wings outspread protecting you. When you were seven and you said, I don’t want to go to school, my heart broke, they had broken you and for a split second I let the world suffocate me, my soul burning in the ashes I was reborn. I screamed louder, I searched harder, I stopped at nothing, I became the dreaded parent that every teacher hates. When you was eight and you said, I like school, I once again began to breathe. This year I’ve seen your anxiety reach new levels, I’ve watched as finally your voice became a whisper, I’ve watched you crumple and bounce back again and one day I will write of when you was nine and everything changed, yet nothing changed for my promises to you, baby girl, they are a lifetimes promise. And so the story begins, when you was nine and you got to spend time with the therapy dog I saw the hinted whisper in your eyes that finally they could hear your inaudible cries. ♥

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

School echoes on the last of the summers breeze.

zoo 150

My dearest child the days have come

and passed and summers end is upon us.

School lingers, the mornings darken

as I fold away your uniform

let me tell you of my thoughts…

You are the calm between the beats of my

heart, the pride that swells every time I see

your smiling face.

Do not forget this.

Do not ever forget this.

This world can appear topsy turvy,

 your soul is oh so sensitive but know this,

you are the product of me,

inside of you,

inside of me,

is a ferocious lioness,

let her be your strength.

And when the lights shine too bright

and the noise screams

too loud, and when everything

is too hard, remember this,

You are my proudest accomplishment,

my heart skips a beat at every breath you take,

butterflies swarm through me every time

you calm your raging heart

and let that whisper out into the universe.

You are all that you are meant to be.

You are perfect, you see.

Karen Hayward ©2016

 

There’s no…

*Poems theme, the acceptance of occupational therapy led specialist equipment for a child with neurological needs ( gravitational insecurities, ASD, learning needs) Sigh.
There’s no 

preparation 

for the hiccoughs 

along our road. 

No amount of 

reading,

talking

or thinking. 

No one to catch 

me if I pause

and consider. 

So I choose

to see this 

with the same 

silver lining I see 

in every cloud that lands

upon my mat.
Karen Hayward ©2016

Anxiety in children; when the Caterpillar is too scared to turn.

We don’t ask for much only that you hear. 

Trust us when we tell you it’s a founded fear. 

Stop dismissing us as helicopter mums,

When will  you see anxietys not fun. 

You don’t understand I see it on your face,

every time I leave her here at this place. 

You do not know best. 

She’s not the same as the rest.

Every day I speak with you, every day nothing new,

Suddenly you decide theres a problem out of the blue?

And the reason for this problem, you haven’t got a clue!!

When I speak do you wander in your mind to your secret place,

Nod and smile, but you’re gone without a trace. 

Do you know what anxiety is? 

Can you recognise it? 

Can you see it in a child as they cower from the clouds,

sudden movements, a chill, the shade, a noise that’s too loud? 

Do you even see it, or is she so very quiet you just leave her be? 

If she cried and she screamed and she stamped her feet,

If she ripped her work and kicked her seat,

Would you help her then? 

Would you scour books with paper and pen? 

Would you be afresh with ideas to help my young girl,

Could YOUR understanding of anxiety, change HER world?
Karen Hayward ©2016

Fear of unknown proportions. 

The soul knows what the mind forgets. 

I watch you standing at the window as rain streams ferociously down the glass 

I watch as unknown terrors become a remembered whisper. 

As your soul envelopes your heart slowing the rapid beat into a rhythmic lullaby.

Your eyes flash brighter than any lightening as a smile creeps across your face. 

Your fear washed into the drains as flash floods create an explosion of giggles.

“This is cool, mum”.  You say as the skies rumble,

Not their fear inducing rumble 

Just a rumble. 

You catch raindrops on your hand as we search for the rainbow,

Never before has that arch of beauty felt so magical then in this moment.

Karen Hayward ©2016 (images and words)

Please, never thank me.

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Thank you…never have these words hurt more than when you are sobbing in my arms.
Thank you… never does a tear come so close then when fear has you in its grip…and you are thankful that I am there.
Thank you…never more than now have I wanted to tell you to please, please forget your manners.
For never when you are breaking do you need to thank me for being there.
Never.

Karen Hayward ©2016

More storms, we are camped out eating ice creams under the covers 😀