When love tastes so good damn pure …

I envy them, him, their love has a pureness seen only in the final pages of old dusty fairytale books, each kiss I believe renders them immortal, spells dispersed and magic created in the enchanted presence of such a love as theirs.
Such a simple existence, a moments kiss and passion fills their auras spilling outward, exploding into the melancholy day and yet, a kiss filled with so much desire and not an iota of indecency, as though they are God’s angels, as though their love is blessed by the heavens and coveted in white feathers. They speak with their eyes, knowing glances that say, ‘ill be back soon my love, but in these seconds without you, know only this, I exist for you, for you.’ I envy them, him, her, I envy them.

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image and words

This is an observational poem on a couple I see almost daily, in the latter part of their lives now they still love each other with a pure depth, she stands at the gate waving till he’s at the end of the road, where he gives her one last wave before he turns the corner… It’s a beautiful thing to watch.

Alice’s hole.

The futile existence of

an unforgotten society,

built upon the misfits of reality.

Here we stand in naked truth.

Our souls upon our sleeves,

our hearts the stepping stones

of corporal punishment.

An example.

Of the white rabbit in Alice’s world,

where the queen reigns and

in dictatorship, a fantasy

of the ugly truth.

No wardrobe to step into,

No light illuminated with snow,

No Lion to make right all that is wrong,

for now you are the strong, in this

battered corrupt world of egotistical

sexual exploits that fulfil a desire borne

not unto this world,

but another. One so broken

no passion can reach it,

no burning flame to light

the rabbit hole.

We are lost.

Forever to be too small for the giant door.

Karen Hayward copyright 2015.