Muted hues of another day…

For a brief moment my smile fell as I pondered worth,
and instantly I saw this bird.
Between dying leaves in muted greens
Purest white and peach of cream.
Colours so rich and vivid
Symbolic of a life well hidden.

And I am five, colouring, sat alone
when I discover navy blue and peach spell home,
A moment of surreal calm among my storm
How is it that a colour makes me feel so warm.
Like then, but now I know take heed
symbolism is the ageless seed.

My energy divinely sent runs low in the devils grasp,
I wane beneath this crushing blast..
Won’t you walk with me in pastures old?
Where silence whispers in a tongue of gold?
Would you see and know and understand?
As I pull of shoes to feel the land.

I pause beneath a moon lit sky of navy blue
hear the forest call and think of you.
I need pillows filled with feathers covered
In pink,
Purple, blue and green a place to talk but not to think.
To stop let go and feel my soul
In natures hand so I feel whole.

Would you sit with me among the trees?
As the scent of earth entwines with me,
Watch through broken branches a sky of stars,
And ponder numbers, distance and life so far.
Would you sit with me and hear the earth
and love me hard till I see my worth?

Whispering wisps.

IMG_20170727_193140 The trees murmured of our love
long before the leaves whispered
our ancient names. On births
creation a constellation of
speckled veins traversing,
passing, rushing, yearning…
passion stirring, paths crashing.
Entwining energies, stoic
thread of silver calm, stitched
perhaps by Zeno in days before.
Are we the calm or the storm?

Ode to the plum tree I’ve stripped bare.

How to grow a plum tree from a fresh seed

Once upon an autumn day
Fell to earth a pit,
Most likely twas a sunny
Spot where children once
did sit.
Through winters love
The pit did freeze,
till out fell a tiny seed
that bloomed into
a lonesome tree
With luscious leaves
that grew so free.
And summers came and
Winters went,
through rain and hail
All weathers sent,
This little tree grew
Mighty strong
And truly it was
Not long, till sprouting
from out his branch
Was love so glorious
from his golden heart.
Emerald jewels
Of luscious green
This tree I often pondered
surely is but a dream!
I checked each day
with a lovers splendor
touched the gems
In search of tender.
Till there upon a
summer eve
Upon the floor
A gruesome thief
All battered flesh
ripped apart
I could see the
Cold stone of
My lovers heart.
I stopped and looked
And wondered should I?
Could I? How the hell
wouldn’t I! This gem
in royal plum,
rich and juicy
from the glory sun
I heard the tiny
supple split of twig,
A little turn did the trick.
A held this beauty
in my hand,
Felt the love from
Of this land,
Smelt the sweet
heaven scent,
then sunk my teeth
In the devils descent.
Tore at flesh of
darkest hue,
Addicted now I was to you.
Sweet tender juice
upon my lips
heaven sent this tender
kiss.
No leaves or jagged
branch apart
could keep me from
my one true heart.
I filled my pockets
and even my sleeves
I had to have them
all for keeps.
Till bare the tree now
does sit,
such beauty came
from that tiny pit.

Karen Hayward©2017
Image found on pinterest

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.

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.

The Universe as She Blesses Me.

And in every grey cloud

I see rain drops

soothing

my soul.

In every winter tree

I see rebirth,

lush green

and

pinks divine.

In every smear of mud

I see our fair land

and spirits

soar.

On every tide

I see adventures

exciting, exhilarating

new shores.

In new eyes I see love

and smiles I see beauty

and with each dawning sun

I feel the universe

as she

blesses

me.

A new day.

Winters fingers
creep across
my skin as I sit
in darkness
beneath dark
skies as a
new day begs
for freedom.

Tip tapping.

The mornings dawn

rises amidst ferocious

winds, branches swaying

in anger, tip tapping,

tip tapping at my window.

Sleep evades me,

Tip tapping, tip tapping.

A lonesome voice calls

into the night, shouting,

A repeated name, a cat?

A dog? I hear the fear

reverberate in her pitch.

Gulls scream to be heard.

Secrets tumbling from the

tips of lush green leaves.

Again she calls out.

Emptiness follows.

Just the tip tapping.

Tip tapping.

As angry branches

Cherry Blossom.

img_20160113_154733

Have you ever seen the cherry blossom,
dancing in the breeze?
Or felt their silky softness as they grow about the tree?
Have you ever seen their leaves,
as they lose their precious green?
Or seen their earthly red after they have been?
Have you ever watched the petals as they float beneath the sky,
delicately floating they look as though they fly.
Have you ever seen them pile,
rotting all the while,
Pinkness tinged with yellow.
Have you felt them on your toe?
Or picked them from your hair?
Have you ever gave a petal, to show that you do care?
Have you ever seen the cherry blossom…
just dancing through the air?

Storm Katie.

Storm Katie, I see that you are here,
your strength the reason for my fear.
Howling winds tearing through the leaves,
swaying side to side through the dying trees.
Storm Katie, I sense that you are angry,
your rage to much for you to see,
as you release torrential rain down into the street.
battering kindly all that you can beat.
Storm Katie, I see your lonesome path,
the reason why your anger means you do not laugh.
I hear you tapping at my door,
fist raging, feet stamping on the floor.
I hear your nails scrapping across the crying glass,
your turmoil so demanding you tear through so very fast.
Storm Katie the light of day has come,
people count the damage and add the final sum.
I see you didn’t like my fencing or my garden gate,
still there are hours till you release this vengeful hate.

Incandescent love of rain.

I dash into the overgrown garden

to grab in drying washing as drops of

rain pebble across the pink fleece.

For a moment I pause and let the

coldness fall onto my face, eyes searching

the skies as this instinctual pleasure rises

in me. I must decide. The dry washing

or a moment spent in utter abandonment.

My soul wins again.