Stars Hidden By Storm Clouds.

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Light illuminated skies, clear crisp crackles of
plasma splitting atoms. My hand slipping into
yours. Fingers fumbling. Storms raging, rain
falling. My heart beating, a rapid
symphony of fear, of love, of fear, of love.
Silence. Your strong arms holding me near.
The infinite calm of your voice and the abandoned
trail of lust in your darkened eyes. A moments pause.
Chemistry in motion beneath dark skies with
stars hidden. . .

. . .behind storm clouds I can see
your silhouette because of those clear,
crisp crackles
of energy.
There’s not a cloud too stormy to keep
me from reaching for you. Your rain soaked dress
as it clings to your stars and galaxies . . .I pilot vessel through your
Milky Way.
As it clings it provides me with enough mental stimulation
to write sonnet after sonnet.
Sonnets of lust
of intrigue.
Consummation ensues.

My spirit sings at a star filled shore
and by your side I know, darkened
skies are no more.

Words & image(c) 5-2017
Karen Hayward/Locthiese

You can check out more work by the extremely multi talented Loc Thiese here

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Lush Raindrops falling on my soul.

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Lush raindrops falling on my soul.

I like to feel the rain soaking through my clothes,
to feel it as it cleanses and turns my soul so cold.
I like to feel the rain splashing on my skin,
dripping through my hair and freezing all within.
Some think that I am odd a stranger in the midst
of creation and the universe my life is just a wish.
I like to hear the raindrops tapping at the glass
they answer all the questions I’m too afraid to ask.
I like to feel the chill that echoes in the air…
then I like a steaming bath to wash away my cares.
With scents of heaven, paradise and love to share
I cleanse away my soul and sew up all the tears.
I lay beneath the water and listen to the beat
eyes closed I am lost in scent and to there I do retreat.
I like to feel the raindrops dripping on my soul
I like the steaming bath that makes me feel so whole.
I like the scent of earth, wet lavender in the rain,
I like the way it whispers my truly sacred name.

Karen Hayward ©2016 image and words.

We’ll meet again in an Arcadian dream…

 

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We’ll meet again in an Arcadian dream…
one man’s…is another’s nightmare.
Oh Lord give me not this phantasm
spectacle, high on Poppy seed euphoria
where fear is life itself. Utopia becomes
annihilated by my existence where
I dare no motion beyond that of breathing,
stranded within a non-tactile cage,
suffocating within my own
anosmia…bucolic?
No, to a soul such as mine
beauty is found in the falling droplets of rain
on the far edge of thunderous
clouds, among wild flowers and ruling weeds. I
long not for Virgil’s divinity but for the homelands
of Pan and his impromptu essence worn by the
nymphs that walk at his side.
My horizon is cursed were it blessed
by a white Knight drawing to stand by me,
for is knowledge not wisdom?
Was it not always known?
Arcadia, home land to Pan, rustic beauty and wild music,
where the Dark Knight shares my throne.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image found on pinterest

 

 

 

I fell between the cracks…

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I fell between the cracks, landed gently in your palm.

 Look at me.

I blossom within your touch,

my petals flush deep pink.

Your essence is nourishment to my soul,

I burst into colour upon your touch,

my fragrance disperses upon the breeze

at your tease

and I am free.

My muse?

Perhaps, but perhaps…more…

such a term seems irrelevant to your

enchantment upon me.

The epitome of inspiration,

your existence dances crimson red through my mind ,

 fire burns within this poet to delve into realm of belief ,

 fly naked upon the wings of Icarus.

I hear the rattle of forlorn warnings, don’t fly too high

don’t fly too low,

but I am at one with his spirit and we soar into skies of blue.

Tell me please the spell in which you have cast upon my spirit,

how is it so that I can feel peace within?

A gentle calm caressing …Me.

So many questions I am lost within your touch

the world has become a quiet lullaby

I hear only your voice and my whispers

as we synchronize across the atoms of time.

I wish to fly,

to become my existence,

to no longer linger in shadows…To see if only for a moment,

pride within your eyes.

The skies are again blue and I search for golden rays,

my eyes fall forever on you,

searching always for their dark embrace and silent caress.

Muse?

More than a muse,

you have woken the poet within,

you have woken my spirit with your delicate touch and affectionate love.

I am yours,

I have fallen between the cracks and landed gently in your palm.

My petals peel away,

my colour becomes vibrant,

my fragrance enriched,

I bloom at your touch,

my blossom is yours,

you are the gentle breeze that calms my soul,

you are the fire that sets me free,

oh hell, tell me please what have you done to me!

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image found on pinterest.

…and then I was caught.

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…And when I search the confines of imagery within my mind,

when I look and find…You are sleeping.

And in the silent whisper of curiosity my fingers,

soft and gentle explore this new found treasure

in waters deep and tranquil.

I touch skin so dark with fingers so light,

never before have I seen such contrasting beauty.

I touch, what is not mine to touch and I caress

what it is I desire.

And as you sleep,

slumber gentle and need so raw

my resistance is beyond my power,

primal need burns inside…To taste,

to taste the hardness of your drive,

the product of your dreams

and my lips are there,

softly rubbing against the tip.

Each gentle touch met with enthusiasm,

my tongue circling,

licking,

more,

more…

and you are awake

and I am caught, blushing,

cheeks flushed followed by the

sudden rush as bodies meld

and passion spills.

Karen Hayward ©2017