Purging the ancient voice of truth


Some people eat to purge
They devour platefuls of
Love, spoonfuls of hate
Bowls spilling with disgust.

Some, drink vodka, gin
Whiskey and bottled beer
Swigging back pain
Sipping on indifference.

For some, it is one more
run, sprinting back the tears
Curling the fears, stretching
the broken fragments clear.

I purge on the dark recesses
of my skull, pull away at
silver threads, devouring
memories made to break.

I lose myself in the silence
of melancholy let it swim
naked through my veins
Tearing me with each stroke.

I let each one fall, tasting the depth
of their essence, let it
ricochet through me in
forgotten undertones of being.

I purge myself through the
Lost memories of my ancient
voice, capturing them within
A moment, then release,
as my lungs breathe and my
eyes smart at the purging.

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image found on Pinterest

Raining for the soul.


A breeze snakes through the partially open window,

an ebbing flow of cool air against my skin.

It calls out to my soul. Taunting me with fresh appeal.

Tapping slowly down falling still against the glass.

Already I catch the hinted scent of damp concrete as

people pull up hoods and zip up coats.

I can almost taste that cool descent against my tongue,

the teasing appeal of a promised cleansing.

The puddle-less rain for the soul.

Karen Hayward ©2016 (Words and Image)


Weeping skies.

Fresh rain falling on a setting sun,
washing away the woes of a mun-
dane society,
filled with variety,
The good the bad,
the nomad
the empty hearted and god dammed sad.
A thousand droplets,
In random sets,
Splattering the window,
Racing down in a sporadic row.
The past in plastic bags, carried in tow.
warm peach clouds,
and a yellow sky,
The burning sun is ready to die,
As the universe sheds tears of loss,
For the eternal boss of existence,
with not an ounce of resistance.

As i slept.

As i slept,
The dark, heavy clouds
The air is warm,
Yet cool,
Threatening storms.
As i slept, my mind
Thoughts pondered,
words became reality,
a creation of fantasy.
The sheets burned against my skin,
As i dreamt of another sin.
As i slept,
I was at peace,
As the rain tip tapped at my soul,
Reminding me, to let go.
Storms flushed away the bad,
sleep soothed the sad.
As i slept.