International woman’s day…Warriors born of love. 

Mother? 

Wife?

Home maker? 

Peace keeper? 

Nurturer? 
Fuck that, us women are 

God damn warriors, 

Our love is our Excalibur

Our patience is our armour,

Our wisdom is our strength,

And our calm is our balance…

Women…humanities warrior

we shall slay all foe

that threaten the harmony

Of our creations, 

Woman  ..  Gaia’s warrior. 

Karen Hayward * ©2017

Bra versus the cold.

It’s raining outside and I am freezing cold.

I can’t find my gloves ‘They’re where you last had them.’ i’m told.

My toes feel so icy beneath my layers of socks,

and my jeans are baggy, so i’ll have to wear a frock.

My fingers are cold and my boobies are warm,

I’m wondering can I pull of a braless form?

I can’t oh I can’t so I take a deep breath

and scream out in shock as the cold hits my breasts.

I can’t find my scarf. I can’t find my gloves,

i’m pretty sure I need more socks and stuff.

I’m too cold to move, too cold to dress,

perhaps I could stay here, and just simply rest.

What the World Taught me About being a woman.

When I was four, the world taught me what it was too be a woman.

I needed long hair that flowed and curled and shined radiant in the light.

I needed dresses and skirts and floral shirts,

of yellow or pink or red or peach,

these are the things the world did teach.

When I was seven, the world taught me what it was to be a woman,

Cross my legs be quite and calm smile always and say yes mam,

Always be clean, no mud, no worms, no running no sunning

no speck no hair no tales to share, for I should always

look radiant and fair,

this is what the world, chose to share.

When I was ten, way back then, the world taught me what it was,

to be a woman,

Wear high heel shoes, and fish net tights,

stay up doing my hair till at least midnight,

Lipstick and mascara and a rosie blush

the world used to whisper, this is what to do…

cover your beauty with products so lush.

When I was twelve,

when I was sixteen,

when I was twenty

the world taught me what it thought, it was too be a woman,

I had to follow not lead, sleep but not dream

smile but not scream,

It taught me to hide behind a costume of sorts,

to never reveal my inner thoughts, to smile and laugh,

because that was my place, I had no ticket for the real race.

being a woman, means not being free,

this is what the world, taught me.

When I was four, my Dad said, it’s just bloody

hair that grows on a head.

curly or straight short or long,

it’s just bloody hair,

there is no right or wrong.

When I was seven, my Dad said,

as I built pies in the mud that covered

my legs,

smile and be happy, shout and scream

do as you please,

just never be mean.

My Dad said, back when I was ten,

dress to please you, but never the men,

You don’t need lippy, mascara or blush,

you’ll get there, there’s no need to rush.

A real man loves what hides in the heart,

don’t be an actress playing a part.

When I was twelve, my Dad said,

jesus christ what ya done to ya head,

No soft curling rolls, or radiant hair,

jet black, he said,

they’ll surely all stare. He smiled, but you

do not care.

When I was sixteen, My Dad said,

be careful out there the world is mean

listen to me, i’m old i’m wise and all this I have seen.

Wear what you like, but wear it with pride,

this is your life, you’ve a ticket to ride.

When I was twenty, my Dad said,

I always knew, you’d get ahead,

not scared to be you, there are but a few,

the power was coming the women were new.

This he said, he always knew.

Karen Hayward (C) 2015