Universal electrons electrified in a catalyst of hope.

Whispers in the breeze of yesterdays thoughts
I dream of a sanity that I have often sought.
As I look to the skies for the light that shines north
and I think of the beauty left uncaught.
I dream of a day where humanity goes forth,
where loneliness is felt no more
and poverty is no longer a disease of the poor.
All this in the whisper of a breeze along the shore,
a knowing that I will one day arrive at that door.

Karen Hayward ©2015.

Darkness within.

Your darkness draws me in like a cold winters night,

wrapping itself around my body, creeping under my skin.

Your darkness whispers to me as the breeze whispers

to the changing leaves on an early autumn night.

Your darkness caresses me like the spring sun that

creeps in to warm the freezing days .

Your darkness ignites a flame deep inside of me that burns

like the deep heat of a clear summers day.

Your darkness is under my skin, your darkness

found the darkness I hide within.


Karen Hayward ©2015



The sensuality of a blank canvas.

There’s no space on the page where my words can settle without burning

the sheet to ash. Speckles of ash that are lifted into the breeze, thoughts

carried away into the universe.

There’s no way to spill the calm of chaos into a logical sentence that can

be read and understood, rarely can the light walkers understand the dark.

There’s no way to create form with a desire that walks on the edge of

nothingness, no perfect Haiku to whisper in code, or sonnet to bumpily

rhyme away sinful thoughts.

Perhaps if I had an invisible pen i could write of the desires, I could tell of

the thoughts that would make even the devil blush.

I could explore the page with a fresh energy, words trailing, thoughts

wandering as do fingers or eye’s or the passion that sits on the

lips of a lover.

Or perhaps, I can write in rhyme safe in the knowledge that the beat will

hide from sight my continual need for you.

Trivialization of such thoughts feels like a form of infedelity to myself, to

the empty space in front of me, to the blank page that can become so

much, yet begs me to not make a liar of it.

Perhaps the emptiness is better than being compliant and trying to force

delicious chaos into some form of normality.


Karen Hayward ©2015


Am I?

Am I a shadow? Is that why nobody knows,

the things that I think, the things that I show.

Am I a dandelion in a field full of sunflowers?

Hidden by petals up there on the tower.

Am I the soft breeze that blows in a storm

I really do wonder if I even have form.

Am I the mist hidden by the sea’s spray

would anyone know if this mist didn’t stay?

Am I anything other than toil

or am I simply the left over soil?


Karen Hayward ©2015




Ejaculation of femininity.

Revolutionise conceptual ideologies

of female sexuality.

Violate the timid role of selfless

need and silenced screams.

Infringe on the thought tank of femininity.

Rebel without a cause other than ourselves.

Scream in the face of opposition.

Peak to the tune of internal desire.

Stir with the spoon of indiscretion.

Ejaculate against regulation.

Secrete the essence of being.

Drain the gushing rush of radiation.

Fly in the face of society

and raise in arms to Pan.

Take inspiration from the nymphs

companion, create mutiny for Selene’s

masquerade dance,

defy the misguided vision of Yin.


Karen Hayward ©2015.

Calm intoxicates my mind.

Ever changing.
Ever thinking.
Ever needing.
Never stopping, never resting.

An open invite,


Muted, vivid saturation.

I see nothing,

I sense nothing.

I think nothing.


Calm intoxicates my mind.

Karen Hayward © 2015.