Creating my own Arcadia

The stark emptiness of a blank canvas 
unfurling before my eyes. A lush carpet 
of soft blades of fresh grass tickling
my senses as I explore bare foot around 
the confines of my existence. 
Will you walk there with me into the unknown? 
With a touch of my finger I will spread 
daisies across the horizon, white petals 
dancing gently in the breeze
as yellow faces search for Helios. 
Long gone are my dreams of crimson
petals that line the marble floor. 
The aged trees in their wisdom will bend 
their branches and form for us a bed, 
softened with moss from the woodland 
grounds and decorated with delicate 
star white petals, as the soft scent of 
Jasmine dances on the summer breeze. 
Will you lay at my side and let me map 
the contours of your body with a trail of 
gentle kisses shimmering in the golden 
sunlight that caresses our uninhibited 
bodies? And as I dance freely across 
this canvas of creation, rose bushes 
of every colour will bloom beneath 
the shadows of my foot prints, 
a floral dance floor for the twilight 
hours as Selene watches from the heavens
and creates a pool of tranquility in which 
for us to bathe, sprinkled delicately 
with her crystallized devotion.
And what beauty will you bring to my vision? 
Will you lay your palms upon the earth and 
create for me peahens and peacocks 
plumes of subtle beauty,
so I may see the beauty of his train 
as he calls to his love? Will you tread upon 
the luscious grass and leave behind 
a trail of promised dandelion wishes, 
for me? Will you look to the heavens and 
request shooting stars to illuminate our skies? 
Will you look to the clouds and ask for 
warm rain to fall from the skies so we may
dance together beneath the falling droplets? 
The stark emptiness of a blank canvas 
unfurling before our eyes in quartz promises
past scars long eschew. 

Karen Hayward ©2016 (2017 edited) Image via wordpress library

He, My Love, My Soul, My Home.

clactonpiersunrise
He is home, an island shroud in silence,
cloaked from prying eyes and dying hearts
where fairies dance in natural semblance
beneath Jasmine petals of endless stars.

The oceans crystal kiss and gentle ebb
lovers fragrant melody caressing
opal rays on my moonlit sands ahead,
and silken leaves forever confessing

He is the Wren, the Robin and the owl,
the morning sly fox and twilight whispers
He is the bear, the storm, the dark eyed growl
He is the lake that silently glitters

Painted skies of burnt peach and navy blue
loves embers on the evening rose breeze
a Velvet blanket of stars, warm and true
A percussion, symphony through green leaves.

He is ancient relics and crumbled life
Druid memories seeped in evergreen moss
Spectres of the days of zeus’s sharp knife,
a healing home to nurture my souls loss

Rustic essence of Pan and dancing nymphs,
Heather swaying between crags singing grass
Arcadia in distant dreams and links
Xanadu, I am home, my love, at last.

Karen Hayward ©2018 Image and words
He-is the personification of xanadu

We’ll meet again in an Arcadian dream…

 

pan

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