Ode to the plum tree I’ve stripped bare.

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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

Fly free…

Be silent, be still,
pause, rest and
heal….then
rise like the
Phoenix
with fire
beneath those
toes, and strength
in those eyes,
tip toe if you
must, whisper
if needs be
but shine, baby,
shine like the
brightest star
in the dark skies
for you were born
to sparkle…

Karen Hayward © 2018
Image found via wordpress library

Morning sonorous

The street lights have long gone out and cars whizz across full puddles as clouds continue to drip drop drip drop into over flowing drains
Silence always sounds the same, night could be any day
There’s a rumbling roar and clitter clatter as it starts and stops a white beam of light penetrating the freezing rain as an old staple steps out of the history books milk bottles in hand with foil tops, thick cream and deathly cat stares waiting, wishing, hoping. The silence tastes like the black clouds, heavy and full of apprehension clinging to the muted song of restless sleep. The insomniacs stir, wipe away the sandman and let these empty hours embrace their feeble, screaming hearts. These are the hours of love, with lost walls and sleeping knights, rusted swords and broken arrows, the maid Marian’s of nights trembling caress and only the milkman is brave enough to trespass across their plane of safe harbour…

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image downloaded from Google

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