When Helios Paints

I wonder will I ever paint the page
the way Helios paints the skies,
His brush stroke smoothing the sharp
edge of night, erasing the darkness,
Lush blades of grass crying dew drop tears
as the horizon sets ablaze in vivid screams
of orange spilling between the
dank scent of nature waking
tiny birds with tickling rays
caressing Gaia into life
and for a brief moment there
is only her, only nature,
only beauty and my soul breathes…

..and I wonder will I ever
paint my page in the same way Helios paints the dawn.
Karen Hayward © 2018

Image copyright Lothar M Kirsch

Velvet heels.

Photo

Her toes embraced the
rubbed velvet interior
of her heels. Deep black
speckled with a glimpse
of the universe, A four inch
ascent to the heavens
she floated with an ancient
female elegance.
I glanced carelessly at the
way her delicious calf curved
delicately as the surrounding
air caressed her barely
tanned skin.
She didn’t need the heels
or the silver grey skirt that
hugged the curves of her
arse and little more,
and as she tripped
I’m sure even she regretted
her choices.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image found on pinterest

Multiverse of possibilities.

Collaboration between myself and a very talented poet/writer/creator Blueflamez.

Check out more of his work on the link at the bottom! 🙂

img_20160729_133026.jpg

Forget the Ink, forget the page.. Let us entwine thoughts

and become the very essence of poetry. We’ll dedicate the

blank spaces between letters to the creation of our realities

based upon our fantasies. Quills together in shared unison,

a creative rush of chaotic lunacy…the building blocks of

moral sanity a pandemic thought spread throughout

humanity.Think about the concept, the art, those same

words embedded in your mind, the margin, the heading,

the facts you can piece together, and tear apart. The real

challenge is shaping up and breaking down the mental

blocks that can hold you back, only to channel that creative

spread that surrounds you, and unlock that potential.

Harness the power of a world within the world, the multiverse

of possibilities, choices, to see the mirror image of who

you were, to the person you’ve become. You are the pages,

you are your eternal life of spoken truths, and written fantasies,

your signature is your personality as your greatest work of all.

The letters of your existence a strong hold of knowing,

unknowing becoming and undoing. Call your name into

the cosmos, start with an inaudible whisper if you must,

there is no rush. Say it, shout it, call it from heavens bed

sign your essence across the skies of men.

Sign your soul across the minds of man.

Karen Hayward & poetryflamez ©2017

Image Karen Hayward ©2017

Find more of poetryflamez work here.

 

 

 

Amber and Blue.

karenart

Amber and Blue

When you think of me before I do
When you think of me instead of you
my everything in a world untrue
You are the silver and the gold
The amber and blue
A crescendo of rhythm in my heart unfolds
the little things you do,
is the everything I hold.
From amber and blue
aura everlastingly bold
I can feel love’s brightest glow
Let the the notions of love
be the binding glue
in you i find the beauty
In all that you do
Vibrant and alive..
like amber and blue
I can only cherish the fates that made you mine
A flaming joy in crystalline time
You are the sparkle the starlight sublime
The gravity that holds me close to you.
the beauty of love in the amber and blue

(c) 2016 Michael J. Garland
(c) image Karen Hayward

More of Michael’s amazing poetry can be found on his Google plus page…

https://plus.google.com/+MichaelJamesGarland/posts

Butterfly wings.

Run your brush across my skin,
leave behind butterfly wings. Paint me Red so I can be the evening wish and morning storm.
Leave one wing whole and one wing torn.
Use the darkest red you can find to paint my heart,
the lightest for my spirit, to set them apart.
Let the flames of my hair fall across my eyes,
paint them just so, to reflect that I am shy.
Draw flames vining across my toes,
In crimson red so I’ll always know
the devil once held me against the flow.
Admire now your creation
the art of life creates elation.
The finishing touches a sparkle of glitter across my skin,
and crystals formed of butterfly wings.

Karen Hayward 2016.

What it is to be the muse.

I’ve been reading up on the ‘Muse’ what they are, their purpose and the relationship between artist and muse. I suspect there will be plenty more muse inspired poetry to come, but for today this poem is partly inspired by, Pablo Picasso and two of his muses, Dora Maar and Maria-Therese Walters.

Dear Future Muse,

I will momentarily stop time at the very moment we meet so that I can drink in the fine details of your face, the way your fringe falls across your eye and the taste of your soul against my skin.

I will worship the very air you breathe and lock it away in jars with red gingham caps.

I will encapture your soul and place it upon the page decorated with the gentle musk of your hair and the blue oceans of your eyes.

I will transform your spirit into rhyme and it will skip across the page humming to the morning birds.

I will explore your body with vigour, tasting the curves, becoming the pleasure that tingles your skin. You will be my art.

I will use your soul to paint your blank canvas in vivid colours of love, desire will sit on your lips in the same way of a promised hint of a kiss.

You will be etched on my every thought.

You will be engraved in my shadows.

Together we will explore what it is to be human pushing the boundaries of touch.

My every art will be you.

I will love you as no other can.

Then I will move on as my eye is caught in the radiant sun, the dark moon, the salty ocean. Then my heart will move on and I will create new art.

Karen Hayward ©2016.

White flesh of apple.

You are art to be admired,

flesh to be touched,

body to be felt.

You are a palette of pale peaches

and snow flake whites.

You are the snaking view

and teasing sight.

Your form is relief, is peace

is please…ing.

Your gentle skin is comfort.

You are the first bite of a deep

red apple, white flesh against my

tongue, sweet juices spilling

across my lips.

The human form is beauty

to be admired you are art

to my naked eye.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016