Loves caretaker. 

Will you ever see you are the caretaker of my soul, 

as I wander aimlessly into the field of  of lost letters 

placed in perfect order to recreate the essence 

of humanity, I do so within the empty shell 

of my mortality. place me among the red petals of 

oblivion intoxicated by opium and I will lose only 

my beating heart for I am without soul 

If I am without you, the caretaker of my core. 
Karen Hayward ©2016 (Image and words) 

At the mouth of Eden.



…and when I stand before gates of pearl at Edens mouth, our

creator calling my name on divine breath within a

celestial Kingdom, will I find you waiting beneath golden rays,

scroll in hand the calligraphy collective of pain scrawled upon

ancient paper? Will I recognise your face from the haunting moments

in my life that I beg to forget? Is the ink in which you write the essence of

every heartbreak I have felt and will I smell again the stench

of rotting death that has followed me in my darkest moments?

Or will I discover on entering the gates that all along you had

wings of such magnitude and upon that scroll is not a lifetimes

pain but a lifetimes achievements. And that the ink in which you

write truly is not the essence of pain but the collective jar of my tears,

each one a reminder to the Angels of Time why it is that they guard

Pandora’s box. And when I hear your voice will I instantly know

you were the birds that chirped at mornings dawn, the breeze that

whistled through autumn trees and the rain that tapped

upon my soul. And will you tell me that in my darkest

moments when my soul was being torn from my existence,

it was not my pain you were there to collect…it was my fear

and all that held me back.


Karen Hayward ©2016


Rain drops.

Rain drops, my dearest paradise fall upon my skin and cleanse my soul. Raphael, I know you hear my whispers, come, let’s sit by the open window and drink in the scent of life. The dark skies are consuming and the stars forgot today to twinkle like diamonds in a far of world. Do you hear the echo as each drop becomes a puddle? Do you hear the echo? Raphael wrap around me your wings of healing love, let us sit alone here and watch as the world is cleansed beneath droplets of heavens tears.

Karen Hayward ©2016

…and they were wrong.


In the dark shadows of existence they say,

such as yourself does not exist.

An urban legend,

a myth of days gone by,

pipe dreams and innocent nativity.

Oh but they were wrong.

In the tainted world of lost hope

I searched in complete belief

faces without features,

bodies without souls,

hearts without love,

‘hopeless’, they declared

my belief, so rarely shared.

Oh but they were wrong…

a singular moment in time

space shared, I saw it

there, right there.

The moment I gazed upon your

eyes, the moment we shared laughter,

I saw the celestial

essence of an angel

looking back and I knew,

they were wrong,

the pure of heart do walk upon

this earth.


Karen Hayward


The unsung song of angels.

The angels came to me when I was young

innocent still with thoughts un-song.

They told me of a universe,

that fell beneath a mortal curse.

The angels whispered in my ear,

‘What holds them back is another’s fear.’

Those angels came to me each night

told me often, ‘Follow the dark, follow the light.

For no path is wrong no path is right.

Though both of them may be filled with fright.’

I see the angels among our own

not sat up high upon a throne.

They walk this earth as if they’re us,

gliding slowly to avoid the rush.

They show us glimpses of memories gone

and show us right when we’ve gone wrong.

The path in front, the path behind

all of them tangles of our human mind.


Karen Hayward 2015 (Copyright)

Wings of the broken.

Straightening her arched back she stretches for the stars all too aware they are not within distance. The moon’s glow shimmering across her pale skin leaving a trail of glitter kisses in its wake. Shaking shoulders white, black and grey tufts of feathers float delicately onto a gentle breeze, the tide of change whistles a melody through the dancing leaves of eternal seasons. A star above twinkles, as great celestrial wings spread open upon her back. Eyes searching the horizon with the depth of an aging soul. She reaches again for the stars that are out of reach, smiling, knowing, she is a fallen angel and needs no one for she will rise to the heavens and dance among the stars an eternal introvert lost in the silence of the universe.
Karen Hayward ©2016

Gabriel, sit with me.

Picture prompt can be found here


sit with me and listen

to the constant flow of

gentle water. Let it trickle




cleansing my spirit

in anticipation for my future.

Let it lubricate my mind

opening a portal of perfect

creative communications.

Gabriel, sit with me

let me feel the essence

of your presence in my heart.
Raphael, come to me as I sit

in perfect solitude within the

Aura of your love. Tell me

the hidden wisdom of depth,

pull strands of memory from

my head, broken, unhealed and

raw, sooth them so they are no more.

And as the water trickles deep into

the perfect pool, let your love

spread within my heart.
Metatron, sit briefly

with me in this perfect tranquility.

Share with me your wisdom

and I will share my life.

Not a worthy trade perhaps,

so let us just pause beneath the

shade as your being gives

me the strength of seeing

within in this battleground

of reality.


Sit with me here my angels,

hear my pleas.

Heal my soul.

Wintin my scared space of serene

perfection, celestial  atoms

charging the translucent water,

every droplet pure, divine.

Sit with me here my angels,

hear my pleas.

Heal my soul.
Karen Hayward ©2016