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From here I see the
night skies,
Deep blue with
muted clouds
speckled sparingly.
I feel the twilight
breeze, it’s scent
soft and welcoming,
Like an ancient
whisper calling
me home.
Warm lavender
caresses me
calming my mind
the damp promise
of rain kisses
my lips.
There is no moon
and the stars
hide behind a
blanket of
darkness.
But there is you
and the soft hum
of sleep as
exhaustion wins.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017
Image and words

Whispers as I dream.

In the safe realm of my other world

you crept through, once again.

A moments recognition as I

traveled through the unseen.

You always see me there,

and I always see you there.

The presence is acknowledged without

words. Our words are rarely shared.

Our non verbal communications

are clearer than any letters we can

string together. I always wake, reality

dragging me back as my fingers reach out

to touch as my subconscious makes a last

ditch attempt to whisper to me at a time

when my mind is calm enough to hear.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

 

Brutality of profanity.

How many times can i swear in a poem?

One fucker, two fuckers, three fuckers, four.

Let’s grab a dictionary and search some more.

But my poem has to read right, it has to have a flow,

I don’t want people thinking what a bloody asshole!

I need to shape the form and add a little theme…cream?

No rhyme for that it would seem!

I want to say the c word, I want to scream it loud

but some would say, now Karen it ain’t word to shout proud!

So bitch fuck it is then, and bloody stupid dick

and please let’s not forget those stupid little pricks!

I’m running short on profanity oh boy this my reality

I live a life with out expression and is a brutality!