Sleep…

Sleep seems to evade me lately like the plague,
my dreams cloaked in darkness and vague.
But i’m still standing,
And landing,
On my own two feet,
And from here,
Deep in the depths of despair,
I can hear my beat,
Calling my name,
pushing me on,
Always the same,
Every path has a reason,
Keep going through the seasons,
Every fight,
Will eventually bring light.
Believe in yourself,
Believe you are right,
And
In the
Darkness
Of the
Night
Awake and alone,
Know you were dreaming
Of your future throne.

Karen Hayward ©201

Supine in a moments serenity

3D somehow becomes

2D and I am

transported through time

to when clouds

were shapes

and the sky

was an endless

playground.

Terra tugs at my core

caressing lost strands

of self

as my inner child

sings nursery rhymes

fit for a killer.

Death lays all around me.

Abandoned graves

aging trees

Adulthood on the

lost lips of kids as

they grasp at the

milk cartons

and for a moment

I see St Nicholas

flying high through

cornflower blue skies

I close my eyes

for a last moments

reprieve

“please wake me

from this dream”

but no one hears

I am four and

discovering

that God does

not exist…

… I lay now,

supine in a

moments serenity

reflecting my daily

wish to wake from

this dream

they call life…

Karen Hayward ©2018

As the blade slipped…

I am the speckled fragments of chaos
you are the contents of Pandora’s chest
I am moon beams dancing at twilight
you are my sky, vast, encompassing
I am kisses shimmering in darkness
You are my night, my knight, my light.

I am the scattered remnants of chaos
I am the broken whispers of Pandora
I am an ancient constellation of star dust                                                                I am the essence from the blade of Zeus
We were one, became two, eternity spent
searching for you…

I am the moon adorned in white light
You are the sky, my infinite love
I am the fragrance of scent long forgot
You are the essence craved at my core
I am an ancient need, ignited in flames
you are the source whispering my name.

You are the echo of touch on my skin
You are the whispers I hear when I dream.
You are the stars leading my way
You are home, found high in the skies
You are a source ingrained in my soul                                                         a whispered memory from an ancient day.

I am the essence on the slide of the blade
You are the soul, Zeus split that day.
We are star dust travelling through time
Searching eternally for the silent signs
Now I am found and we look no more,
For you are mine.. and I am yours.

Karen Hayward ©2017

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Always the whore once the angel

Between the
opposing vines
and strangling ivy,
under the
thorned blackberries
and
spite filled Holly
lays the
naked undercurrent
of my thoughts,
battling nurtures
insects and natures angels
And we are
what we create
in the devils flames,
branded souls
whimpering for the deed
they long forgot they
up and sold.
Once an angel
always a whore
Echoing in the broken
beads of thoughts
taught
on a death man’s wish
once brought.
Don’t you see the
shadows that suffocate
feeding from the sins
I’ve sort,
Yeah, once an angel
always a whore
pacing the sinners
catwalk shore
I am my flesh
do as you please
I am my gasps my moans
desire and lust.
I am nothing more.
Once an angel
always the whore.

Karen Hayward ©2018

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Daisy, dandy, buttercup kisses

I’d rather be a weed,
then a flower. I’d rather
be seen as ugly
then pretty, strong
then weak. Resiliently
stubborn fuels my
survival.
I’d rather grow in the
cracks of a beaten side
walk where the
old and the young,
pause before me,
then be lost in the
shadows of a
forgotten garden.
I’d rather be a weed
I’d rather be free.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Golden flames adorn my skies

I am lost in days silent retreat,
as Helios stands guard of vast
raging skies as evening draws,
and he bids goodbye.
My soul transcends in the way
his Amber kisses traverse
the colossal void of existence,
crimson echoes of light skipping
over atoms, submerging Gaia
in vivid hues of love,
the serenity of eve’s glow,
each pocket of colour
a prayer
whispered into closed palms,
screamed to the heavens,
spoken into the tangled
strands of a love one’s hair
as Helios bids us goodnight
till morn and Selene
stirs stifling a yawn and
we sit momentarily still
paused by the beauty
of our creator, be him a he,
a her, a deity, a God or god
a messiah or Angel…
In that moment between
dusk and twilight
we find them in our prayers
In return,
they give to us a sun and moon
a reason to pause us there.

Karen Hayward©2018