Cold toes

Cold toes, warm tea morning gulls
screaming to the skies. Dark clouds
sun rise peeping over the horizon,
cold fingers, extra jumper, tired eyes
weary mind, kettle on, hot water
bottle grabbed, .slow cooker out
diced beef in, sky staining vivid
pink. Cold feet, freezing toes, extra
socks, silence, momentary, cars
slowly whizzing past, cat purrs
climbing inside my cardi, shared
heat, sun rises, day begins….

Karen Hayward © 2018

Image and words

It’s everything and nothing
the beats of mind numbing
time when I simplicity
the quiet verge of self
submerged forgotten
remembered
the silence
of mind
warmed
by home
made soup.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image and words

Crystalline Wishes

Cream clouds
crystalline wishes
diamond blankets
and snowflake kisses

A silent hush
glittered fantasies
Infinite sprinkles
Snow dream realities.

Blushed cheeks
Cold toes
Thick gloves
And a snowman nose.

United play
Giggles delight
Tears to be cried
Snowball fights.

Hot choc and ‘mallows
Festive shows
Snuggly blankets
The after snow, glow.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Sweet love in liquid heaven.

teacups

Sweet tea, the honey nectar of comfort.

Tiny grains of sweetness bleached beyond

recognition taste like unconditional love

against my taste buds. Thick heavy sweetened

milk turned golden brown by processed

leaves held together with mesh and draw string.

The teabag sits solemnly at the bottom of a

china cup, china to keep the tea warmer. White

grains of love sit waiting to drown, to melt,

to transform. Then wait. Patience as the

flavor devours the tasteless water.

Then the milk, enough to create

a shade that reminds me of passion,

enough to cool the water.

Sweet tea, unconditional love in a cup.

Karen Hayward (copyright 2015)

Image from Pinterest.

Beneath a full and glorious moon I search. 

Wont you come sit with me beneath a full moon. 

Blankets wrapped about our bodies 

keeping in the warmth 

keeping out the cold of Satan’s hour. 

Won’t you wrap about me your arm, 

pull me close and hold me as I am lost 

in the darkness of eternity swimming 

with the stars of forgotten wishes. Sit with me and 

know without me speaking what worries my gentle 

mind in the twilight hours, 

what offering have i for the God of sleep 

as I beg him to please let slumber caress 

my soul like wild kisses of a true love 

devouring its prey. 

Dearest darkness it is us the children 

of the moon that spill delicate tears

of translucence to your being. 

Won’t you comfort me as I find 

solace in the depths of your world

.dear glorious moon. 
Karen Hayward ©2016 

Do the stars watch us from above?

Do the stars, as they lay dying in the night skies, look straight into the heart of the universe? Do they spend the twilight hours counting the insomniacs, the broken and the bruised? Do they place empty wishes upon the souls that fly, do they weep stolen tears for the souls that cry? Do they have the perfect algorithm to tell them of human meteor showers that reign down burning flames of pain and destruction. Have they mapped our constellations can they tell me off my fate or do they watch tirelessly as we are consumed by hate. Do the stars know us by our names, or the colours of of our soul or are we just a number without a heavenly goal? Do they hear me as I whisper do they know my secret thoughts,  do they know the reason why my sleep is so very short? Do the stars simply love the glowing of the moon, do they, like us, lay there and swoon as she fills the nightly skies from night until goodbye. Do the stars look down into the universe a reflection in reverse, do they count up the all the souls and collect them in a purse ? Did the God of all creation decide in his elation, in the darkness of that station to give the stars, the very last of his impatience. Do they count us as we break, watch us whilst we wake…sitting in the darkness I wonder of this sight, is it the stars that keep me sane in the emptiness of the night?

Karen Hayward ©2016

Insomnia caresses my soul.

Insomnia came banging at my door last night,
I was too tired to care, too tired to fight,
he always comes like the tunnels light.
He asked me how my night had been,
I told him of my screwed up dream,
he laughed, sipped on his tea,
and said,  ‘I’ll leave just as soon as you see’.
I told him seeing isn’t for me.
I know what comes next, I have to believe.
So I went back to bed to once again dream,
but insomnia wasn’t done with me.
Insomnia came crashing at my door last night,
he likes to think I need his light,
corners me when I’m too tired to fight.
I asked him what he wants this time,
he said, ‘I’m here for your unconscious mind,
there’s something hiding there I need you to find’.
‘Go away’, I said, ‘You’re becoming a swine’.
When will he learn these thoughts are mine,
‘When you stop fearing the signs’.
he thinks he’s so kind
doesn’t see I am fine.
Insomnia was still not finished yet,
he dragged me once again from my bed.
I sat and watched the stars instead,
as insomnia delved inside my muddled head.
He held me as darkness swarmed
as broken dreams enforced a storm,
whispered ‘It will soon be morn’.
As I closed my eyes and softly yawned

Karen Hayward ©2016

My something, my everything, my sprinkles of pearl in this bitter world.

We all have, something,
A thing, an object, an illusion of hope
That soothes our soul,
That reaches in to our spirit,
that holds us,
On the darkest nights,
When we cannot fight the tears,
For me, it is, it always has been,
The beautiful, courageous moon.
She sprinkled moon dust across my eyes,
The nights when I cried,
she cradled her light around me
as I sat alone on the sand, alone in the world,
She lit my path as I stumbled,
Drunkenly,
Through the dirty streets,
I am never alone,
even when i feel that I am,
she is always there,
somewhere,
fighting through the storms,
To get back to me,
Each day, she proves her love,
Her loyalty, her truth,
She sees my soul,
She sees my spirit,
She sees deep inside my heart,
all the things that i am not strong enough to admit,
she see them all,
she knows them all,
she holds me as i dream
of another world,
She is my something,
My comfort, my strength
In this battered, bitter world we live in.

Strawberry sweets…give me what I need.

I don’t find comfort
In arms,
Wrapped round me
Tightly,
Holding me,
it’s there that i find a desire
To run, to fight.
I don’t find comfort in false
Testimonies of sisterhood,
Or fallen tears for
The pain i have shed.
I find comfort in the knowing,
Knowing that if i need to pause,
your arms are open,
You will not hold me tight,
you will simply hold me,
Till i am ready, again to fight.
Give me truth, always truth,
I am stronger than i appear,
and it is the fractured cliches
that break me, not words
Uttered from an honest tongue.
And if the day does ever come,
when i cry instead of run…
Say nothing, let me rest my head against your beating heart,
And say nothing.