When twilight knows my name…

Where are you when the twilight hour is upon me? Darkness lingers across my skin where your fingers trailed, dreams within. No illumination marks my sky,
Droplets of my love are carried on Selene’s tears as she spills moon beams across your night calling to you in sleeps lullaby.
For a moment, a mere wisp of time we share sleeps quarters, we traverse between the worlds, fingering the thin veil of hope… Perhaps we can share the same dream. Sit here upon this log, beneath sun filled skies and watch the horizon spreading hues of our essence wide across the universe…

Karen Hayward © 2018

Image via wordpress library 

Darkest Light.

Darkest Light

and all drowning
my essence of night.
Deepest blue,
darkest burgundy,
it matters not,
my essence is cloaked
in this state, this void.
Think not of my night
and my aura as negative
for a dark state
can be a canvas.
A blank page for
something bright
to create. . .something
bright to form
my nights’ sky
and give it character.
and make it
come alive.

Yet it should consume me.
Darkness such as the night sky
should devour me, swallowing
my essence into oblivion.
Do you see me?
I am a mere whisper
of light lost in the echos of time. Yet,
when you lay me upon
your dark essence,
your canvas
becomes my art.
Your depth is my contrast.
I tip toe through your darkest blues
leaving illuminated kisses.
My essence, glimmers and glistens
upon your touch, for my light. . .
is love,
created by your darkness.

Words & Image
©5-2017 Locthiese/Karen Hayward

Check out more work crafted by the multi-talented Loc Thiese by clicking here.

Life’s celebration in springs bloom.


A celebration of life?
I ponder what is such
without poetry?
And what is poetry
without life?
But for the empty void
of letters amassed
together to create a
void of existence
nullifying to the soul…

I declare in the twilight
hours of my despair
I shall never utter the
essence of your spirit
upon my page again
and in that instance
I wonder do I seize to
be a poet?
For even silence
tells a story..

Spring blossoms
afore me,
petals peeling away
layers as the
sun warms and
mirth wakens
the earth.
Upon the new breeze,
your whisper,
telling me to reach
to the skies,
upon eternal wings,
fly, I hear, fly and
celebrate life.

Karen Hayward* ©2017
Image and words.

Universal ticking hands.


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)

…and then I saw you.


…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?


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


For Emily-Rose xxxxxxxx


They said motherhood would change me,

I said I was unchangeable.

I was wrong.

They were wrong.

You changed me. How could I see darkness

when all I saw in your eyes

was light. How could

I teach you to love


until I had learned

to love myself. And so our

journey began in the warm nights laying

together, side by side. Inseparable. You taught

me to be a warrior. I teach you daily that you

are a lioness, braver than anyone. You

taught me to stop and look, to see,

to feel. You taught me that

perfection is so very


for all


are perfect.

You reminded me

that laughter is

the only

important thing

in life. And love.


beats love.


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


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