Category: love poetry

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)

Lost unto you.

img_20160712_171011.jpg

There are moments, senses lost I become

a flurry of chaotic need,  a yearning forms within

my core. Desire that transcends the simplicity

of imagination like winters mist circling

my limbs I feel there your fingers.

Tender kisses upon skin, trailing my breastbone

your breath a whisper calling unto desire

lost within your tantalizing thoughts and

teasing truths my senses become a blur

of eruptive forces, lust perches upon my lips,

passion circles my tongue, need tingles within

and I am lost, to you, lost unto you.

Karen Hayward ©2016

 

Without the Rainbow Pieces.

Photo courtesy of Walter E. Gantt. ©2016

‘Pieces of a Rainbow.’

waltergannt

I feel a vast emptiness inside of me,

spreading through the black storm

clouds, I search for my Rainbow and

I recall you gave it away.

And I search  for my love

and I remember you gave it away.

And I wonder where is my passion

and I recall you gave up that too.

And I ponder the way we once connected,

perfectly synchronized

and I don’t even try as you gave that away…

And now I wonder what is left…

A future?

A future without love

without passion

without soul

…is a slow and torturous death.

Karen Hayward ©2016

Image used with permission ©Walter E. Gantt. 2016

Please see more of his amazing photography here on g+

His wonderful photography can also be

viewed and brought here at Fine Art America.

…and then I saw you.

img_20160713_060655.jpg

…and then I saw you,

the source of ancient whispers

caught upon springs breeze.

The warm caress protecting

from winters freeze,

the soft echo of snow,

The golden rays and pink skies

of summer, the oceans call

and the silence of

autumns twilight hours…

and then I saw you the source

of ancient whispers and then I saw

you and I knew I was found.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

 

Will I?

img_20160517_171508.jpg

If I close my eyes to sleep will I find you once again there your hands upon my skin and your lips whispering. If I close my eyes to rest will I find you inside. Will I see your eyes and hear the hushed lullaby of your mind? If I close my eyes to sleep will I find you there waiting for me, will we lay together beneath a sky of stars, fingers intertwined, hearts beating as one, will I find you there if I shut my eyes?

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

To say otherwise would be the lie.

I loved you.

To say otherwise would be a lie,

a god damn fucking lie.

Your very essence filled my veins,

you were the flame behind my eyes,

the fear in my beating heart

the sweat that pooled in my palms.

I loved you.

To say otherwise would be a lie,

a god damn fucking lie.

I had to love you.

I had to surrender to the hunger in my heart.

I had a weakness for the flavour of love.

Battered bruised and torn apart

An instinctual need to taste the crimson flow of blood,

the faint pulsating beat still fresh,

quenching my thirst for another day

I loved you.

To say otherwise would be a lie,

a god damn fucking lie.

Hazy memories coupled with perfect moments

that I keep locked in a jar, pickled

with the remnants of a lambs heart

evidence that I loved you,

each of you.

Yes. I loved each of you and to say

otherwise would be the lie.

A love so perfect, untainted by hate

a moments recognition between two souls,

darkness that seeped into our finger tips

passion that filled our kisses,

I loved you.

To say otherwise would be a lie.

I love you, I still love you, I will always love you

and is this so wrong? Is it so wrong to love, to be in love?

An indefinable term that is constantly squashed

into a patriarchal society, glossed over with

feminine charms. It didn’t last and so by definition

of society it was never love.

Society does not rule my soul.

Escaped musings from the thought tank

veiled in black lace and draped in pure white silk.

A plotted timeline of maturational evolution.

You were the blood soaked sheets

and I was the falling tears of a shredded heart.

I loved you, this was never a lie.

The vibrational beat of passion that tingled beneath

my pallid face, drawn out eyes that stared into

the abyss of darkness and begged on bloodied

knees.

I loved you.

Love is no fairytale, no white knights, no glass slippers,

no virgin dick with an instinctual knowledge

of the female soul.

Love is real and cannot be contained

inside a box of simplistic purity.

It is a force to be to adored, devoured

en-captured. The fluidity of lust.

Oh what a joy it is to drink in that fluid

of passion, to feel it energise the soul

as it becomes you, threatens to drown you.

As its fires burn in carnal lucidity.

I loved you.

To say otherwise would be a lie,

a god damn lie.

Karen Hayward ©2016