Hidden within her burning heart

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That’s where I want to be. In the center of that flaming heart of warmth. I want the suns embrace, her arms around me holding me tight and blocking out the darkness. I want to turn my back on the world for just a moment, to bathe in her love, for her energy to seep into my life force. I want to feel the flames burning in my blood. I just want the ride to stop whilst I catch up, I want to sleep warm and safe. I want to be in the center of that flaming heart.

Karen Hayward (©2015) Image and words

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

Caressed by ebbing calm

Skin wore the essence of summer,
Kissed by waves, embraced by currents
A taste of salt and golden glitter.
Hair a tangled web of curls
Yellow weaves of Destiny
ocean eyes deep and fierce.
Those days were our making,
Druid souls seeped in Poseidon’s kingdom.
Bare foot stamping our mark upon this world,
etched forever into spirits
energised by Helios,
soothed by Selene
caressed upon those shores
by the oceans ebbing love.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017
Image and words

Ode to the plum tree I’ve stripped bare.

Image result for plum tree

Once upon an autumn day
Fell to earth a pit,
Most likely twas a sunny
Spot where children once
did sit.
Through winters love
The pit did freeze,
till out fell a tiny seed
that bloomed into
a lonesome tree
With luscious leaves
that grew so free.
And summers came and
Winters went,
through rain and hail
All weathers sent,
This little tree grew
Mighty strong
And truly it was
Not long, till sprouting
from out his branch
Was love so glorious
from his golden heart.
Emerald jewels
Of luscious green
This tree I often pondered
surely is but a dream!
I checked each day
with a lovers splendor
touched the gems
In search of tender.
Till there upon a
summer eve
Upon the floor
A gruesome thief
All battered flesh
ripped apart
I could see the
Cold stone of
My lovers heart.
I stopped and looked
And wondered should I?
Could I? How the hell
wouldn’t I! This gem
in royal plum,
rich and juicy
from the glory sun
I heard the tiny
supple split of twig,
A little turn did the trick.
A held this beauty
in my hand,
Felt the love from
Of this land,
Smelt the sweet
heaven scent,
then sunk my teeth
In the devils descent.
Tore at flesh of
darkest hue,
Addicted now I was to you.
Sweet tender juice
upon my lips
heaven sent this tender
kiss.
No leaves or jagged
branch apart
could keep me from
my one true heart.
I filled my pockets
and even my sleeves
I had to have them
all for keeps.
Till bare the tree now
does sit,
such beauty came
from that tiny pit.

Karen Hayward©2017
Image found via google search

Kings and Queens and Devils Spawn

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I feel only pity. Not for you, for those touched by you. Those stained with your toxin breath and acid words. Those that hear the echoes of your banshee scream as dawn calls upon another day and they believe they converse with an angel.

I pity the God’s you pray to, the hyprocracy in your evening cries, the venom in your devil eyes. A descendant of lilith, fallen angels with blackened wings fanning the vile words falling from your spitting tongue.

The serpent coils through your soul, what embers of innocence once lay there now crushed, dispersed on trade winds to a lover and another and any poor fool consumed by your succubus melody and the broken strings of your violin.

But alas I will carry your lesson into tomorrow on the beating wings of spirits love forever at my side. My gain was your want, eternal without condition beyond the physical realm. Spiritual devotion rewarded now in universal bliss…

Your lessons taught me the value
Of true loves blessed kiss. Your game play was preparation, for me to become his. Your poison was the toxin in my climb
as I learned self worth and when my King
took stand to claim his Queen,
I knew I was worthy this time.

Karen Hayward ©2017 Image and words

The curve of her skirt and trip of her toes.

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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