Category: Creative writing

This is where I will attempt to post any of my attempts at creative writing!

Graphite 

She was graphite, rough and raw.
She’d erase rough lines of guidance,
use the indents as a reminder of where not to walk,
how not to cry,
when not to break.
She’ll sit up into the wee twilight
Hours curving letters across
nipples pert bud,
gently caressing sensuality,
as the sharpened pencil defines
contours of need,
black lines of repression smeared by charcoal nips and probing tips.
Blurred definitions
tainted revelations
deceitful realisations
Graphite creations… how she pondered
now the way we draw our lines
in pencil, temporary markings
leaving a gentle trail
of destruction across
naked bodies beneath Lunar glows
Wild oats, taken, made and sown
Pick ups and throws…
The allure of graphite, need
erased, redrawn… Redrawn.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words 

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Flames, burning, need, desire. 

Not

angel… 

No not me

Fallen perhaps

wings battered, torn, now

black, tarnished wisps past scars.  

A succubus, fires calling me

Come closer let me taste your soul.

Devoured essence, swallowing seed

Fingers calling pleasure satisfyed need.

Flames igniting desire burns spirit

Ashes of lust, kiss me, taste me

Command me among seen eyes

Look deeper, depraved sense

Boundaries, without walls

Lustrous energy

Succubus, 

Angel

Both. 
Karen Hayward ©2017 

A pause in the eternal beating of time.

Photo

If I wielded sand grains,
in a broken hour glass,
tore kinetic energy
from the fabric of time,
Ripped a hole in the linear vortex,
for a moment I’d make you mine.

Beneath star filled skies and a distant moon,
damp air clinging to my skin,
owls hooting a chorus of ancient wisdom,
the silent echo of twilight.
A lover’s blanket of need
wrapped about my body’s bloom.

Each breath filling my lungs
with your essence
I’d drink in the dark pools of your eyes,
trace the heart of your lips with my mouth
searching for your taste
beneath celestial skies.

Our horizon lost in endless fog
muted reality,
my body falling into yours,
the melding of our existence,
the paused shadow hovering
above life’s forgotten arrow,
sundial engulfed in past darkness
illuminated by lunar crystalline
beads of ever beating life.

I would hold those grains of
sand in my hands,
count the blessings of their moments,
ensnare them,
bind them to my fantasy,
mold them to my reality,
forget them in the black
hole of desire.

Our lips devouring the soul,
our tongues tracing a faded
constellation of our love
searching for home and finding
each other,
between the paused beats of
times ticking
hands traversing the infinite
skies of dreams.

Karen Hayward (c)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

To pause the beats

img_20160610_182202.jpg

I need you… More than need.
I need reality to pause,
the neck of times glass
to close tight
for us alone.
I need a blanket
A cloudless sky filled with
infinite stars and cushions
one or two or ten
and your voice traveling
the shortest distance
between your lips
and my ears.
I need silence to hear the
rapid thumps in my chest
and solitude so I can love
you in abandonment.
I need to know all the
things that make you,
You.
Childhood games, teenage
fancies and adult flames.
Paths walked and journeys
taken, lovers held the worst,
the bes….no scrap that last one.
I want your stories between
kisses on the moons
full blessing, I need your tales
whispered on the curve
of that voice that embraces
my inner need.
I need you.
All that makes you.
I need your essence
embracing me in nights
whispers, your kisses
enticing my spirit to soar
and more.
But I need your tales and
stories that set you my way…
Our constellation of life
that led to times glass
neck closing,
for us. Yes, I need that.
I need you.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words

Angry skies of Satan

#acrostic *#poetslineprompts*

Angry cries from Satan’s soldiers
Negotiating the flames of hell
Grueling screams of deaths call
Redemption, a forgotten whisper
Yonder sinful haze of a broken soul.

Skies where once were blue
Killing innocence in crimson
Iridescent drops of life
Eye of sin, perpetual strife
Sinister the angry skies.

Karen Hayward ©2017 Image and wordsimg_20161110_142542.jpg