Drunken Ramblings

'I think about you all the time',
means nothing after a bottle of wine.
'I can't get you out of my head',
perfect, if only you said it sober instead.
I know your heart hurts, you feel torn,
but that leaves me wondering, am I simply the thorn.
So, please, tell me when sober you are
and I'll go the distance, my love will go far.
Do reassure me that this trip will be shared,
that your words are real and that you actually care.
But do it I beg when sober instead.
I'm not asking for promises or even for changes,
just a little respect between our exchanges.
My heart feels as yours it's lost and unsure,
and I need your truths to reassure.
 
Karen Hayward ©2012 - Edited 2020 Image and words.

What am I?

Descriptive prose…

I am small and edible. My skin is a mixture of Black (but could be considered brown) and muted white. I am life, I have the ability to bloom and procreate. Some of us are eaten, some are not. Those of us who are not eaten, start life  in a dark, cold and damp environment. My new home needs heat, and as long as I am kept damp and warm I will begin to grow.

My body arches towards the warmth that motivates me, pushing against tremendous weight, I stretch until finally the darkness is gone and all around me is light. But  my fight goes on, I  need more heat, more light and so my body stretches even more so. I am faced with challenges, my home grows dry, dehydrating my body, slowing and sometimes stopping my growth and from above cold drops of water are poured heavily down upon my weak body, only the strong can with stand the pressure.

As my body grows and reaches for the skies, the wind whips around my tiny frame, threatening to snap my body beyond repair. Evolution has prepared me, and my body thickens, the heat grows more intense by the day and calling me  closer, it is  love, and I must go to it.

I am growing taller now, green, my skin is rough, my body thick and my limbs growing larger everyday. I do not have a look of anything spectacular, I have a head green, rough, but shapely. And still I grow. I am stronger now, but need help to stand alone,I have outgrown my environment and can see beyond the walls that cage me.

I can grow no more, I am becoming weak, I open my heart.  It is now that I shine, my heart is open, and there I reveal new life, so small and perfectly placed, my true beauty revealed, I am spectacular, vibrant, my crown glowing among so much green.

 

Answers on a post card…. 

Karen Hayward © 2012 – Edited 2020 Image and words

Sacrificial Love

I love you so much and yet I cannot say
the words, for you don’t belong to me.
I am Instead left with hope, and clichés
but even that is not a guarantee.
So I wait in line, with all my patience
Ignoring the imperfections of life
And the stirring emotions of my adolescence
So that no one can sharpen their sinful knife.
I've sacrificed for you, for them for everyone
this love, so you can live out your life, happily.
I will linger eternally in shadows
of our dreams that cannot be.

Karen Hayward ©2012 - Edited 2020 Image and words
I love you so much and yet I cannot say
the words, for you don’t belong to me.
I am Instead left with hope, and clichés
but even that is not a guarantee.
So I wait in line, with all my patience
Ignoring the imperfections of life
And the stirring emotions of my adolescence
So that no one can sharpen their sinful knife.
I've sacrificed for you, for them for everyone
this love, so you can live out your life, happily.
I will linger eternally in shadows
of our dreams that cannot be.

When the Bluebells Bloom

Oh, what a mistake we've made,
You never should have gone,
You really should have stayed.
So many years have come and gone,
So many tears, so many wrongs.
With lovers for company,
we were never alone,
are all chances finally blown? 
Or does the lure of the extraordinary,
that hides beneath the ordinary,
call out your name,
can things ever be the same.
Oh, what a mistake we made.

Karen Hayward ©2012 - Edited 2020 Image and words

The Ace of Destiny.

What if karma, destiny and fate 
are all fake desires dressed up 
in the guise of hope?
But what if they are not?
What if our paths were always destined, 
our distance mapped out in the stars that guide us.
What if 
I am simply a good memory 
among so many bad ones, 
a memory designed to offer you hope.
What if that was always to be my purpose.
What if things had been different, 
I had been stronger, 
fought for love, 
stood tall and confident, 
demanded to be seen and heard...would things be different?
What if all along, 
we were just meant to play cards in that old, 
battered, 
Black and White house.
What if that was our destiny.
 
Karen Hayward ©2012 Edited 2020 Image and words.

Bird in song.

The day will arrive when I will look

and you will be gone.

Until then, I try to keep control,

to stay strong.

But one day you will realise

that we are simply wrong.

This road my friend is dark

and oh so bloody long

and yet, the only sound I hear,

are two lovebirds, in song.

Karen Hayward © 2012 – edited 2020 Image and words

I want…

I want to know the look
in your eyes when you
are drunk on passion…

… And the taste of your
Kisses when you are
drowning in lustrous sin.

…I want to know the feel
of your fingers clawing
through pools of desire…

… And the essence of your
soul as it spills within.

Karen Hayward ©2017 Image and words.

The puzzle pieces

Need a last minute valentines day gift? Then check out my latest poetry book, a collection of love, lust, desire and passion it’s the perfect way to tell them you love them!! And it’s so easy, Amazon allows you to ‘gift the ebook’ all you need is their email address…easy peasy!

His touch was like a puzzle piece
I never knew existed
Like all my awkward edges had purpose
and my quaint curves of self
had reason
like my skin had been forever searching
for the unknown that became known
the moment his hand
touched me
like the excited atoms of my skin
ignited
rejoiced, woke… Yes.. Like my soul woke up
like a touch I have always known
existed and yet never found

If it were a
strangers hand
on a busy city street
resting upon my skin
I’d have surely spent an
eternity searching
for its
origin.

but it was his touch,
and we are found…

Karen Hayward ©2019