Category: poetry

Wide across the universe.

chaos

Where are you when the twilight hour is upon me? Darkness lingers across my skin where your fingers trailed within dreams. No illumination marks my sky,
Droplets of my love are carried on Selenes 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 star filled skies and watch the horizon spreading hues of our love wide across the universe…
Karen Hayward ©2017

Image found via Pinterest

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Suffocating in a dew drop mist. 

Some days I beg the
mist to fall and
suffocate me,
to swallow whole what
freedom I am afforded
and drown
those things
I am not permitted.
To choke from me
my bitter tongue
that longs to spit
flames at your
scornful eyes.
To lay surrender
the pure essence
of my soul and sell
myself to the devils role
lost in vengeful wars
I shouldn’t fight,
Some days I do not
feel worthy of
these wings, or my
need to take flight.

144,000 lights. 

144,000 lights all flickering
to the beat of another’s purpose.
Lighting the dark corners of ego,
dispersing yesteryears fear
cleansing the broken and
healing the scarred. It is their
purpose. Born to give light in a
world of shadows.

Clarity of thought awareness
purpose swarms in their essence.
I have been purpose, time and time
again I have lit the shadowed path
of the lost and wounded, patched
together the ashes of their
hearts burned and souls scorched.

Sometimes at twilight, myself and Selene,
I ask her does she know, will my purpose
always be so. Her response the same night after dark after night. Her whisper
the silent pearl droplets of love she kisses
upon my skin as she sings a twilight lullaby. Yet, never do I hear her answer.

144,000 lights switched on, each a designed purpose, vessal of aid, beacons
illuminating the way through the darkness that has become us. Unconditional love…but who will love them in return.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image found on pinterest. I have no claim. 

Kissed by loves desire. 

Let me fall into pools
of darkness kissed by golden
rays of the falling sun
and peer momentarily
into your soul.
Stroke your fingers
across the soft curve
of my neck, feel the
delicate essence of
my porcelain skin
beneath your wandering
Hands as you grasp me
within your hold.
Pull me into your torso
let me feel the beating of
your heart as your arms
press into me and your
lips search for the
tender kisses that fall
between carnal need,
between abandonment
between love and lust
and desirous want.
Hold me, tight,
within the realm
of always, whilst our
bodies merge, and
our lips search and
our tongues explore
the taste of one another’s
souls.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words

The ultimate handbag checklist. 

wp-image-172038529jpg.jpg

The ultimate handbag checklist.

Keys, door, shed, garage, car. . .
adult hood at 16, 18 and
again at 21.
Lipstick in various shades
of mood from scarlet lust,
to blushing pink and nude
swallow me whole.
A hair brush carrying
enough DNA to create
a genetic army
Two snapped hairbands
a rusted hair clip bend
as you will kirby grips
and a fraying I’m your
only choice hair tie.
Panty liners, towels and tampons…sporadically
but never when needed.
A mirror smeared in the
grime of reality
Pocket tissues harbouring
last seasons man flu
and the melted remnants
of throat lozenges.
Body spray, empty.
The perfume your great
aunt Margaret brought
back from the second hand
booty, full.
A Biro covered in thick,
slick black ink.
A lifetimes worth of good
luck pennies shrouded by
a paper chain of the who’s,
where’s and when’s.
A purse and the hope of the
queen herself blessing my
lonesome bag,
alas, a ‘mum’ keyring and
the tinny rattle of silver 5 pences.

The gentle innocence
of her ten year old
eyes sparkling as
she reaches for her hand bag. . .
Lego figures, check.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Till the ink becomes blood.

Photo

If I could. . .

I would spend all day writing
And all night reading
Ideas evolving
And concepts breeding.
I would watch every sun setting
and see it as a new day seeding.
True soul nourishment breathing
My psyche feeding.
Beneath moons we’d sit kissing
the violent rush of our hearts beating
My pencils scribbling
Ink of need my pens drawing.
With time true art would begin thawing
an explosion of thoughts all storing.
An implosion of life breeding,
Happiness evolving,
I would spend all day writing
And all night reading.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image and words