OPEN SUBMISSIONS FOR POETRY!

The Pearls of Catharsis Times!!

Submissions open!! 

Hey guys and gals, i’m an editor of the Poetry and Quotes section in this great magazine, come check it out and send in your submissions. The theme is ‘Summer and/or environmental degradation’

We are open to submissions, closing date June 25th 2017.

 

A pause in the eternal beating of time.

Photo

If I wielded sand grains,
in a broken hour glass,
tore kinetic energy
from the fabric of time,
Ripped a hole in the linear vortex,
for a moment I’d make you mine.

Beneath star filled skies and a distant moon,
damp air clinging to my skin,
owls hooting a chorus of ancient wisdom,
the silent echo of twilight.
A lover’s blanket of need
wrapped about my body’s bloom.

Each breath filling my lungs
with your essence
I’d drink in the dark pools of your eyes,
trace the heart of your lips with my mouth
searching for your taste
beneath celestial skies.

Our horizon lost in endless fog
muted reality,
my body falling into yours,
the melding of our existence,
the paused shadow hovering
above life’s forgotten arrow,
sundial engulfed in past darkness
illuminated by lunar crystalline
beads of ever beating life.

I would hold those grains of
sand in my hands,
count the blessings of their moments,
ensnare them,
bind them to my fantasy,
mold them to my reality,
forget them in the black
hole of desire.

Our lips devouring the soul,
our tongues tracing a faded
constellation of our love
searching for home and finding
each other,
between the paused beats of
times ticking
hands traversing the infinite
skies of dreams.

Karen Hayward (c)2017
Image and words

The essence of now.

img_20160105_125509.jpg

I forgot
Momentarily.
I forgot to look to the skies
As silver petals fell from the celestial heavens ,
And then I saw, and then I felt,
the angels golden breath upon my brow.
Worn down by words spat from Satan’s mouth,
I wonder is he devil sent?
Again I look up, I look up high,
silver petals falling from celestial skies,
the angels golden breath upon my brow
I feel the presence of the earth,
I feel the essence of now.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image and words

Darkest Light.

Photo
Darkest Light

Consuming
and all drowning
my essence of night.
Deepest blue,
darkest burgundy,
it matters not,
my essence is cloaked
in this state, this void.
Think not of my night
and my aura as negative
for a dark state
can be a canvas.
A blank page for
something bright
to create. . .something
bright to form
my nights’ sky
and give it character.
and make it
come alive.

Yet it should consume me.
Darkness such as the night sky
should devour me, swallowing
my essence into oblivion.
Do you see me?
I am a mere whisper
of light lost in the echos of time. Yet,
when you lay me upon
your dark essence,
your canvas
becomes my art.
Your depth is my contrast.
I tip toe through your darkest blues
leaving illuminated kisses.
My essence, glimmers and glistens
upon your touch, for my light. . .
is love,
created by your darkness.

Words & Image
©5-2017 Locthiese/Karen Hayward

Check out more work crafted by the multi-talented Loc Thiese by clicking here.

Kisses on the dawning sun.

img_20160512_210648.jpg

As your alarm rings,
I would reach out
my hand to your skin,
grasp at your fingers,
embrace the last of
your sleep that lingers.
I would swallow down
my souls tug and use a
smile to hide my frown.
My lips would eagerly
devour the warmth of your
essence, kissing, greedily
the canvas of your form.
I’d curse the shortness of night
and the coming of morn.
I’d search the depth of your eyes
for a moment’s need sustained,
love spilling as the endless skies
passion radiating, desire burning
alarm ringing, bodies entwining,
souls yearning, I’d kiss you,
good morning.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017

A trail of massacre in my wake.

redhairwings

Menstruating blood seeps through the

cracks of my hormones plunging me into the depths

of normality, to be female, so easily led by useless

emotions that spill across cheeks.

A jolt into reality to see what you see,

instead you show me the tainted

pages that already haunt my thoughts.

Aneath the crimson onslaught

I tear your soul from

words fought,

I leave a trail of massacre in my wake.

I leave a trail of massacre in my wake.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Words and image.