Modern Bedtime Story…

(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)

 

 

Something you always think…what if about? 30 day writing challenge.

This is a toughy of a question. I generally try to think of life without regret. Regret is no good for anyone, which means I spend very little time thinking about what if, what if is very much in the past. However there are a number of situations that when I consider what if, they make me appreciate that without doubt throughout my life there has been a greater force steering me in the right direction. So, I guess my what if question would start all those years ago in Scotland, what if my Dad had never discovered where about’s we were? What if cuddling up against my Dad on that long, long coach trip home had never become a memory. How different would I be now? Religion (Catholic) would without doubt be a driving force in my character, my accent would be harsh and coldness would be the only weather I knew! What if people’s decisions had been different, I could have known what life in the system was like, what if sacrifices hadn’t been made, I would have known a deep and resentful loneliness.

What if none of this happened, what if I had never misbehaved as a teenager, never known alcohol, never kissed a boy till marriage, never lifted my head up high enough to see the world. Would I still have become a poet? What would I write about? Would my words be an educated form of letters strung together by the grey and glued to the page with innocence? Where would my passion be? My desire to live? What if I had never discovered the joys of odd socks? Or the liberation of living a life where by my aim is to impress no one but myself?

I don’t want a life of what if’s. Those days have passed and become memories. It is always our choice how we recall the days gone and if we are in a constant state of what if then we are living in the past, one toe in the future filled with dread and fear. That is no life for anyone.

 

Karen Hayward ©2015.

 

 

List five places you want to visit. 30 day writing challenge.

 

I love this question, mainly because it does not specify that these places have to have been scientifically proven to exist!

1. To the depths of hell…who’s with me? I mean seriously this place of fire and ruin has been written about pretty much since the dawn of time and yet no one has actually been there taken a picture and come back. I feel a little sorry for the guy, constantly judged because he has a crappy landlord that won’t fix the heating!
2. America, route 66…I really just wanna see behind the scenes of America, are there really eyes in the hills? :). This is actually a true destination I would like to visit. I do like the idea of travelling in areas that have been untouched by modern day society.
3. The northern lights. We’ve all seen those little glass roofed huts that are constantly being advertised over on facebook right? I would love to lay back covered in blankets and just stare up at those amazing colours.
4. Camping, I want to go camping so deep in the woods that I can actually close my eyes and pretend that society does not exist. Here in the UK our woods really aren’t all that vast, in fact the woods up the road from me, if you look hard enough through the branches you can see the road the other side…and a couple of druggies along the way!
5. Lastly, I saw an image of a beach, the sand is covered in sea glass of a million different colours. I would like to go there. I love sea glass and I find it so mesmerising to imagine that this small piece of glass has been crashed against sand, stone and sea debris, has had waves of destruction crash down upon it and it has survived more beautiful than ever.

Karen Hayward (Copyright 2015)

List ten things that make you really happy. 30 day writing challenge.

Ten whole things that make me happy…

1. The sun really makes me happy. In fact absolutely any heat source makes me feel really happy. I am by my very nature a very cold blooded person and my temperature rarely passes Luke warm. So when the suns heat falls on my skin and I can feel it warming me up it feels amazing, it fills me with a new level of energy that seeps into my blood and makes me want to skip and dance and sing…until the clouds come back over and I am left feeling cold and thirsty for that heat again.
2. The rain. I know this kind of conflicts with number one, but hey ho. I love the sound of rain tapping at the windows. I love the feel of rain falling down on my face. I love soft fine misty rain, I love hard pounding rain. I love to jump hard into puddles and watch as the water flies out in all directions. I love the sound of cars as they drive along rain drenched roads. I love the way drops fall down and form into puddles. I love the sound as it drips down guttering. I love the way it sprinkles through the leaves. I love the way it leaves huge drops that run down the windows and huge drops that sit lovingly on the leaves. But best of all I like to get entirely soaked by the rain. I like for my clothes to cling to my rain drenched skin I like my hair to lay flat to my face…I like to go home, remove all of the cold wet clothes, run a steaming hot bubble bath and jump in with hot sweet tea to drink and whatever amazing book I am reading at the time. I like to feel the hot water warming my body as I can hear the rain drops tapping at the bathroom window.
3. Good things happening to good people. No matter how big or how small I love to see good people have good things happen to them.
4. The good morning salute from strangers in the street. There is something so amazingly magical about being out early in the morning and acknowledging those around you.
5. Spaghetti Bolognaise covered in cheese and tomato sauce. This is my childhood favorite dinner and just the scent of this cooking is enough to send me back in time to those moments on a Saturday afternoon that I shared with my Dad, my friends, my brothers and my sisters.
6. The early morning. Before the world has woken up I like to sit and listen to complete silence. I like to watch the sky as it travels through an array of colours before the sun stretches her arms p and reaches out. I like to watch the stars disappear from view knowing that actually they never leave us, we simply cannot see them.
7. My cat Eddie, well all of my cats, but especially Eddie. Eddie (and his brother Emmet) was eleven days old when their mum got run over. I hand reared them and every day I didn’t believe they would survive and every day they got stronger. Eddie is now attached to my hip…or shoulder, or what ever body part he can perch himself on in an attempt to stay close to me at all times. He is a pest. He sleeps across my neck in the night and is often the cause of me being awake at stupid o’clock. But every time he nudges me for kisses, I know that he’s here because of the sacrifices I made. He is my little familiar.
8. The moon. The moon is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and each and every time I stop to look up at her my stomach does somersaults to see such beauty.
9. Who I have become makes me really happy. I am not what I dreamed I would become and I am much stronger than I believed I could be and there are no words for the paths I have taken and memories I have left behind me. I love myself. The reflection of me in a mirror makes me extremely happy but more than that it makes me extremely proud.
10. Number ten. I left the best till last. The number one thing that makes me really happy is my most amazing and beautiful daughter. She is the diamond in my world.

 

Karen Hayward (copyright) 2015.

Cold concrete as my bed. Haiku.

Summers play, tired eyes,

to crash and burn beneath skies,

grounded lonely warmth.

Goodbye my dear winter queen.

Nonet.

#awinvp8

Goodbye my dear winter Queen.

Blue skies above and a hazy sun,

cold crisp air awakens my lungs,

as buds burst looking for fun,

the snow queen leaves the room,

spring has come too soon,

daffodils swoon,

retreating,

chagrin,

Queen.

Black roses wrapped in crimson red silk.

Daily prompt.

You return home to discover a huge flower bouquet waiting for you, no card attached.  Who is it from, and why did they send it to you?

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/secret-admirers/  (prompt) 

I let go of the old creaky gate, my heart flinching as it slammed against the wooden post, the rusting clasp slamming down holding the gate in place. At first I thought the wind had blown debris from an abandoned fire into the garden. Small black flecks floated softly across the deep green grass. I reached my hand out, an instinct.  Then I realised they were something else. Small black petals. I reached for my keys at the bottom of my bag before I reached the small alley that led to my door. Dark, cold and in an eternal shade I liked to get through the door as quickly as I could. Strange, as I am sure that I clearly remember the sun shining down so brightly on that very door, the day that I had viewed the house, and yet now, the sun never seemed to reach that far. 

As I reached the door it became clear where the petals had come from. A large bouquet of black roses wrapped delicately in a crimson red silk scarf were sat waiting on my door step. As I picked them up I could feel the softness of the silk against my fingers, fluid like, warm. I tore open the small black envelope curious to see who had sent the odd arrangement of flowers, and wondering if perhaps they had come to the wrong address. As I read the words I could feel my heart beat slowing down.

Roses are black,

blood is red,

It’s too late now,

you’re fucking dead.

I dropped the flowers to the ground. My hands, smeared in crimson red, my fingers burned. I felt my legs go weak and then strong arms around my waist. A cool breeze that soothed my burning skin. His lips soft against my neck. His eyes black as he looked into my soul until finally his teeth sharp against my skin. He held my crumbling body as he drank away my life.