I am the blank canvas.

 

I never said you could take my page,

dampen down my internal rage.

I never asked for this haunting silence

a metaphorical pain that’s worse than violence.

I never said you could have my words

or make my page a fucked up blur.

I never asked for your opinion

so I tell you now you have no dominion.

Drop a silent atom bomb upon my soul

and gather up the thoughts you think you stole.

Steal away the edges of my sanity

and try your hardest to install some vanity.

Pull at the essence of my being

and blind me from feeling what i’m seeing.

Sink me into the abyss of darkness

beneath an emerald sky so starless.

Try your hardest.

Know what it is to fail as I rise again from the ashes

a seasoned traveler I’ve mastered the crashes.

I am not your blank canvas

a tired mind empty and planless.

I am the thoughts that spill to my page

that slip between the bars of the iron cage.

I am the essence of touch in the darkness of night

devouring with passion my every sight.

So go ahead do your best,

create the silence that I detest.

Erase the markings leave only the spaces

where actually you’ll find crimson red laces.

I am more than the words, the thoughts or the gestures,

I am the blank canvas just waiting for treasure.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

 

 

 

30 day writing challenge.

So I have writers block or at least a form of writers block. I have so many different things swimming around in my mind right now that i’m having difficulty deciding what should fall to page and what should remain inside my head. Such indecision is like poison to my creativity and so for now whilst I clear my mind I’m going to do a 30 day writing challenge :). This will allow me to continue writing whilst not having to delve to deeply into the new and fresh thoughts that are causing me so much chaos. It will also give everyone a great chance to get to know me better :).

Found on Pinterest.

Constant flow without a show.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.

I’ve forgotten all the words

I don’t recall what I heard.

They’re seeping from the page

before I can thoroughly engage.

I’d catch them if I could

on the net, in a book,

but they come out oh so fast

and I can only see the last.

I taste them as they flow

a three course show

of delectable bites

and vivid sights.

I’m losing all my thoughts

all the dreams I have sought

what will I have left

I feel so utterly bereft.