Wishing upon planes thinking they are stars…

From this angle, she see’s the universe,
the infinite promise of light in dark
and ponders if believing is perverse
Like the damned wishing on eternal stars.
likely soon he’ll skin the flesh from her soul
bleed her dry till she’s tender on the tongue
shelling the carcass upon an old knoll
ripping at rotten scars where life had stung.
And she’ll tumble, doe legged into headlights
the scattered remnants of one’s own soldier
fettered to the darkest skies of twilight
falling nude at the hands of her poacher
Perhaps we pander to the passing planes
Thinking them stars, just spectators of shame.

Karen Hayward © 2018
Image found via Pinterest
#sonnet

The pinkness of my singing soul

… And as the pale sun burned fiercely through wandering thoughts she tucked away the delicacies of her soul, ran her fingers through blush pink silken threads, muted green satin bows, gently stroked rich purple velvet and pressed delicate feathers to her lips. She closed Pandora’s chest, not turning the key. Her secret? Beyond titanium lays the intricate threads of a candy floss soul. Rays of sun upon deep breaths tickling her tongue, she knew, with trust must come vulnerability… And as the pale sun burned fiercely through wandering thoughts she left the chest open,
knowing it was time…

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image found via wordpress 

Is Lust really, really, really such a sin?

Is lust truly a sin?
Forget for a moment
the pleasure it brings
Is lust truly the sin?

Two bodies lay
in consent
Deep in throws of
passion sent

Yet, we teach our girls
her body is sin,
and boys we teach
girls are just a thing.

In needs essence
and lusts demand
Abandoned fears
at lovers command

Girls we teach
vanilla sex,
Boys taught shame
In sex Ed.

A mutual taste
swarms and curves
chemicals released
Intimacy learned.

Girls we teach
are a vessel for boys,
Their skin, hips, boobs
and body’s a toy.

And bonded in
shared escape
two souls form
In respect not hate.

Girls we teach, save
yourself for the
special him,
Boys told sow
that seed and the
kids it brings.

Lust is a primal
calling, perfect
when truth is
unfolding, forming.

We teach our girls
mechanical sex,
robotic emotions
on shames
commotions

Lust is beauty
a believe in the
spirit, the skin
and desire within.

We teach our boys
to screw the body
and forget the
soul… Insanity.

The tickled edges
of self, caressed
empowered
and embraced

Yet,
we teach our kids
that lust is
Shame… Like their bodies
infedelity… Like the truths
we teach daily
The devils sin… from the
mouths of the fallen.
Weakness… From those
who fear their very souls.

So I ask again is lust the sin,
or the united ‘we’ society sings?

Karen Hayward ©2018

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

Golden Rays

To sit among the golden rays,
feel the whispers of your
lips as they graze in
complete silence,
solitude of lovers ebbing as
the river flows.
Desire rising, need spilling
as mouths explore evening
constellations mapping
across bare skin.
Fingers trailing glowing
thoughts, growing passion
tongues entwined
bodies moving
As the river flows
As the sun dips down low
As night time comes and
evening goes
As forgotten love
begins to grow.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words 

Intrinsic working of an introvert soul

Have you ever watched the intrinsic
workings of an introverts soul?
We hide deep within the shadows
listening as shoes are worn tread bare.
We scuttle through raindrops
feeling the celestial embrace upon our skin.
We roar into empty skies at twilight
with the moon caressing silent thoughts.
But if you look real close,
if you pay attention to our inaudible beat,
you can see us skipping across powder puff clouds
of white searching in emerald skies of blue,
dancing to natures frequency,
singing to the birds symphony.
Have you ever seen the intrinsic
workings of an introverts soul?

Karen Hayward*©2017

No claim to image 

Slipping over skin…

Outlook.com - ckpmx3@hotmail.com

She slowly pulled the rouge
nylon across her bare toes,
Momentarily cold against
the warmth of her skin
Embracing the tenderness
of her foot,
Kissing the curve of her calf,
gently hugging the
roundness of her hips.

She slipped her feet through
the cotton skirt, pulled it
up and let it sit loosely across
her stomach. A short, sharp
twirl and she could feel
the fabric tickling across
her thighs. A smile.

She watched as the blue fabric
stretched and embraced
every curve, kissing bare skin
caressing crimson lace, licking
pert buds, warming winters freeze.

She paused at the mirrors edge,
what could her reflection tell her
that her heart could not, she thought
as she glanced again at the way
the rouge nylon kissed her legs.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image found via Pinterest