A tune so subtle,
igniting in each note,
Twirling a tango,
Willing a waltz
the clumsy stepping
of my whimsical
ringing to Pans beat.
of ancient telling
And his soul knows my tune,
whistles a perfect song
Plays my body like a flute,
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
as the moon kisses
And he is the song
the rise the fall…
For he is the one
of my soul..
He is my
my piano music
Ebony and ivory
Karen Hayward ©2018
Image and words
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.
When around me the world
light losing to the dark
you are all I want to write.
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)
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
Photo courtesy of Walter E. Gantt. 2016
‘Pieces of a Rainbow.’
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,
and I don’t even try as you gave that away…
And now I wonder what is left…
A future without love
…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,
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