Forgotten Birthday Wishes.

I know you don’t want me in your life no more,

I understand that.

I know you will never forgive that I made that call,

I understand that too.

I know I am a memory you wish to forget.

I understand it all.

I’m a past you want to believe never happened,

a mask you want the world to think never existed.

I understand it all.

But today I cannot help but think of you, when in years

gone past we have shared so much.

So many cakes. So many drinks. So many nights shared.

So many Birthday song requests.

So many laughs.

So many tears.

So I hope in long forgotten words

that your day was good

and all that you deserve.

Decaying Lace.

IMG_20151102_114056 (2)

Broken mortar crumbling away.

Glass squares that make a pane.

Saw dust where once was wood.

Knock it down, they really should!

Lost memories and stolen kisses

whispered thoughts and true misses.

The firsts the lasts

the forgotten memories of someones past.

A decaying world now unsung

contents lost probably flung.

Home to critters the lost and quitters

filled now with decades old litter.

It started here, it started there

surely someone out there cares.

The broken soul of this decaying place

is someones memory of perfect lace.

Karen Hayward. (copyright) 2015.

Dear younger self,
If technology ever develops a way of somehow projecting this into the past, then I have something important to tell you. A few things in fact.

Follow your heart, follow your soul. Right now, society is telling you that to accomplish anything in life you have to be a certain way. This is a lie. Follow your heart; dye your hair, go goth, wear the sexy biker boots, wear jeans and hoodies and skirts with trainers. Wear what makes you feel good. Look different, wear your soul on the outside of your body.

Remember them, all of them.

Remember him. He will always be a memory.

Lost and afraid and filled with confusion you cannot see that one day you will proudly be the person you dreamed you could be. Better, you become an amazing human, you love truly and unconditionally to those that are worthy.

I cannot say don’t do this, or do that, because in truth, every thing we did growing up has made us who we are today. You do become.

A risk for he that did once exist.

In the back waters of reality I know it don’t exist

illusions whisper in the night, that it is a worthy risk.

So many dreams to spoil in a day

just with the words I so need to say.

I stop and I think and I turn away

and wonder who is it, that I truly betray.

In the back waters of reality I tell myself this,

you are an image that no longer exists.

The pretence of the truth of a forgotten kiss,

is that really worthy of the risk?

Fading Memories and Forgotten Wishes.

Hey guys (and gals). Sorry I’ve been missing in action recently, I promise I have still been writing and have lots and lots of new poems to share. When I created this blog a few years ago I didn’t imagine for a moment that people may actually stop and read my words, it’s a journey I never dreamed I would take. Along the line, I’ve made some super friends and been lucky enough to experience some super amazing writers, I thank every single writer/blogger that has chosen to follow my blog, thank you. So, why have I been so super busy lately? I got too thinking a while back about how we are in control of our own lives, we decide the paths that we wish to walk down. So, I am excited to say that I decided it was time to take my writing to the next level and have created an e-book that can be purchased on amazon here. This first poetry book uses poetry to explore the amazing journey of love, from adolescence through to adulthood.

I feel passionate that poetry should be accessible to everyone,

it is an expression of language,

of life,

and everyone should get to experience and share in this.

Fading Memories and Forgotten Wishes.

Karen Hayward.

 

I love it all.

When I was young, I truly knew what it was to love. To swim

dreamily in and out of childish fantasies, bathed in the golden

rays of an eternal sun. I loved it all. The searing heat of summers

that begged to never end and the cold frost of winter that clawed

through to my soul. I loved it all. I loved each person I met in differing

degrees, some I loved for a day, some for an eternity.

I loved to talk. To strangers, to people I had known my entire life,

to people I would never see again. I would never know their name.

I loved to sing as I walked, skipped, ran and jumped. To sing so

loud people would stop and stare. I didn’t care.

I loved to stay awake all night, to watch as the moon ruled the

skies, her light showing us the dying stars. Then to sit, body humming

as the sun reached up and yawned into a fresh new day. Her

yellow arms reaching through into the deep depths of a blue sky.

I loved it all. I loved to wake I loved to sleep. I loved to explore

new corners of my battered, broken home town. I saw beauty

in each step I took, I saw beauty in each hand I shook. I loved

it all. I love it all. I love all that I touch. All that I see. Perhaps

for a second, perhaps, for eternity.

Karen Hayward. (c) 2015.

Idream of you, in songs of perfect words.

I dream of days that are lived and gone,

bathed in hues of hind sights song,

times in life, when choices were wrong.

I sing of memories that fill my heart,

of forgotten people that played their part,

hidden now in eternal dark.

I hum of love that once was mine,

cherished thoughts, my mind does dine,

as I was hum the tune of that perfect find.

I talk of them in words and thoughts,

of promises made and truths I sought,

treasured gifts that I have brought.

Broken dreams and empty skies.

Speckled grains of broken dreams,

ripping holes in all i’ve seen.

Empty eyes, heart long gone

birds sing a lonely song.

My feet are bare against the grass,

how long will this emptiness last?

My skies are black and greying too,

as buds burst into a new.

As flowers scream into the light,

and the moon dances through the night,

and nothings wrong,

and nothings right,

my broken dreams are out of sight.

Karen Hayward (c) 2015.

My shield of feathered purity.

My feet firmly on the floor,
as the future knocks feverishly at my door.
My past pleading, for a moment more,
this journey has left my body sore,
By night, my dreams are filled with blood and gore.
I worry my heart will never thaw,
in love and trust I will be poor.
No shining knight upon my shore,
but at least the devil wins no more,
as my shining angel keeps perfect score.
Each day I rise,
my feet
firmly
hit the floor.