Lose me in tender touches

Will you pull me in?
Gently press my cheek
to your chest
Curve your fingers across
my hip,
skin on skin.
Will your fingers slip
through strands of
my hair
As your leg slips between
my thighs…

Will you let me fall
for a moment,
be nothing
for a millisecond
Just let my soul
rest,
safely in the cocoon
of your arms…

… Before I rise
once again.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image found on WordPress library

The ancient pull of aura

It tugs at me
pulling at strings
caressing thoughts
embracing shadows
There’s a part of me
that isn’t sure
a part that coverts
reincarnation
pondering
synchronisation
not peas in a pod
Noooo
Not similar
not the same
More like two
sides of the
same coin
Yin and yang
a mirrored reflection
Yes, the same source
and the missing parts.
There’s a part of me
that isn’t sure,
that we haven’t kissed
before
on times path
along some far of
sandy shore.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image from WordPress library

Haphazard whispers of love

*Shh*… ould we?
I mean can we?
I’m tangled in a web
of your desire
caught haphazardly
on your tongue
the curve of your voice
as it entwines through me.
Can we?
I pull at the ancient sticky
essence that seemingly
binds us
I wonder,
were we ever unbound?
I sometimes call
defiantly into
the dark abyss of stars
like I did that night.
And you always answer
as you did that night…
my defiance quenched
for a moment.
Yet I still find
myself pulling
and tugging
at that string…

… I guess it might snap.

…or I might discover
your soul has been at my
side the entire time.

Only one way to find out.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image found on WordPress library

A symphony of love…

A tune so subtle,
melodious energy
igniting in each note,
Twirling a tango,
Willing a waltz
the clumsy stepping
of my whimsical
soul, bells
ringing to Pans beat.
A rhythm
of ancient telling
Lust rising,
love swelling.
And his soul knows my tune,
whistles a perfect song
Plays my body like a flute,
fingers teasing,
Lips caressing,
tongue defining…
And he is the drummer
My skin, his instrument
He beats in rapid strokes
A deep chorus of pleasure
Spilling across atoms..
And he is the saxophone
songs of old dancing
among raindrops
as the moon kisses
my skin…
And he is the song
the beat,
the rhythm
the silence
the rise the fall…
For he is the one
that knows
the ancient
composition
of my soul..
He is my
symphony
of love,
my piano music
Ebony and ivory
in perfect
unison.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image and words

. . . and if raindrops were kisses.

All Alice/karen cox.... Alice in Wonderland

If seconds were miles you’d be only hours from me and kisses would be promises made sealed on lips made of love and eyes spiraling into the oceans depths of always.

If the ocean were only a puddle I’d wait bare foot in warm springs, mist carrying to me your smile on passions embrace our laughter dancing between the falling drops of time.

If time were linear and this dimension melded with another I would hand pick our time lines crossing our paths in ferocious braids, braids braiding into braids.

If loves true divinity is the marking of our spirits chaos, cyclonic
grains of sand will slip through oceans neck into the palms of open hands sealing dreams of old, paving dreams of new.

And if the miles were seconds I’d own your kisses, if the oceans were puddles you’d taste my laughter, if time were linear and dimensions crossed our paths…

But they are… entwined and in moments blessed the miles disperse into split atoms caressing the curve of my hip on your tongue as kisses taste of a love divine…

For our souls know nothing of miles only beats within the chest, fluttering rapidly.
Our souls know nothing of oceans or falling rain just the shared essence of hope. And perhaps deep within our psyche we are learning spiritual truths
on the unseen essence of love.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image found on Pinterest.

 

Universal ticking hands.

img_20160615_095807.jpg

The universe doesn’t pass time in the moving of seconds,
Instead, the ascending and descending of life events.
First there is birth to the perfect parents.
Not perfectly good or perfectly rich,
hell they might not even be perfectly hitched.
But for purpose sake, the bond is purposefully stitched.
Or un-stitched in some cases.
At a soul level you’ll recognise their faces,
past lives leaves scars, freckles, tiny traces.
Childhood happens, you might be rich you might be poor,
the universe keeps ticking never keeping score,
look around at the beauty, she only wants, that you want more.
For some there is light, for some of us dark
and as the grains of sand slip, we all walk a path,
Living becomes a story that leaves another mark.
Till finally we learn there are lessons at hand,
Life is a map only our souls know the plan,
from the moment of birth when Terra began.
They’ll be tears, they’ll be hurt and boy they’ll be pain,
they’ll be days when we count seconds by the drops of grey rain,
and some of us sadly, will be driven insane.
But alas time must trickle through the portals neck,
as we eat, pray, play, work and slumber in bed,
Till finally we wake, then we are led.
For each soul that wanders for each mind that grows,
lessons are delivered knowledge is sown,
and time passes by in a constant flow.
Some of us lucky our lessons we learn,
twin flames found at the very first turn.
Some of us feel time, feel time, as each second burns,
time hesitates, stammers and screams,
we can’t figure out what the symbols mean,
we can’t make sense of the time that has been.
The universe doesn’t pass time in the beating of hands,
time is explored through our souls and their plans,
some paths we can’t and some paths we can.
Karen Hayward ©2016 (Image and words)