Summers fling.

Oh how I cringe when I think of the shyness that carved through my every touch, the whisper in my every word. The silence in my longing and the screams that echoed from our every moment hidden in the shadows of deceit. And yet we were everything in that fleeting summers moment. The raging lust of youth, the deep desire of empty souls searching and the shy spirits exploring on the knife edge of belief, readying ourselves for the fall. And oh did I fall. 
Karen Hayward ©2016

Word prompt, buddy….a moment longer.


Word prompt…buddy.

This poem is inspired by a person from my past who meant a lot to me then and means a lot to me now, however his wife does not permit us to talk. Yet even though we can only share brief glances we have remained friends for over twenty years.

Did you see me before I saw you?

I felt you before my eyes registered you.

You watched me walking for a moment

longer than usually permitted.

You walked alone.

Your lip raised in that little coy smile

of yours,

I wondered what are you thinking

as your eyes slowly blinked.

Then you were gone.

Karen Hayward ©2016


First love forgotten on the breeze, remembered in the sun.


Half clad in skin tight lycra
A far cry from the nineties nightclub.
Face to face in the harsh light of a council run pool
Like some fucked up universal rule.
Eyes up eyes down there’s no where to go,
We’ve no choice but to play out this show.
A soft smile that tells us both that inside we are screaming,
we always understood the unspoken meanings.
We divide the pool with an invisible rope,
cos speaking in front of family is a big fucking nope.
I wonder now, what did you see?
Did I become everything you thought I could be?
Your hair is gone,
I loved it long.
I remember the places the plaits would sit,
back then everyone thought you were so fucking fit.
You were.
I was just a girl.
We fumbled with our identity, our bodies, our love,
You’ve told before you still remember that stuff.
Chlorine stenched hair
I don’t actually care,
I rise from the water
like a lamb to the slaughter
and just as I turn the corner,
the pair of us falter.
In the dim lights of a council run pool,
first love long forgotten, like some fucked up universal rule.

Karen Hayward ©2016

Cidar chasers and bong in hand.

Do you remember? I was ninteen you were twenty one. UCAS letter in hand,
I had the world at my feet.
Dole check in your pocket,
you were already beat.

Lost souls we met in the dark,
Cidar chasers bong in hand
Sexual energy flowed between,
Whilst I called all the ones
You walked the miles
To meet me beneath the sun.

Escape for you was futile,
Your kin my kin,
Deprivation their everyday,
So when it came that I should leave,
together we packed for an adventure,
You see.

UCAS letter in the bin along side my forgotten dreams,
Mystery became secrets are darkness fell,
My body became flesh disconnected from spirit.
My beauty lost, I could see no light,
As you ripped apart my fragile belief,
and stole away my strength to fight.

I worked, you slept, I cleaned, you searched,
Eyes wide open identity broken,
you sat on that couch and he uttered the words,
and I never understood, but for the thrills,
Dysmorphic belief,
the soft tender eyes captured in stills.

But to wander and wonder and despair at the love,
the anger that reigned
the lies that fell true,
you begged and plead
and you told me a lie,
I asked that you be the thing that I need.

I see you sometimes, you came back to this place.
You live a life of pretance where i’m the mistake.
I wonder still if strength found you at all,
did you admit to yourself,
or did you let yourself fall?

Karen Hayward ©2016.

Discuss your first love.30 day writing challenge.

Hmmm this is an interesting question as it doesn’t specify what type of love. I could tell you about the young girl that was entirely in love with her Dad that she followed him everywhere. Or about my first and only dog, Spade, an old English sheep dog that came too us wrapped up inside my Dad’s coat a tiny bundle of fur that was apparently a heinz 57 (cross breed) and was never going to grow any higher than your knee…this was not true! I could tell you about my first male best friend who I loved so very dearly or, or I could tell you about the first boyfriend that I fell in love with. My biggest concern about talking about first love is that somewhere over the years we romanticize these things, we make the bare ugly truth, beautiful.

Still, here goes. I suspect I was maybe 14 at the time. The very first time I met him was late on a Friday night, I was getting ready to go out to a nightclub (yeah yeah I know I was underage!) when the doorbell went. It was another male friend, I invited them in, I was home alone at the time and we sat in the living room chatting. I was wearing a long black dress and asked if *first love would mind doing it up at the back for me. We flirted innocently. He had long hair that he wore tied back, he was 16 maybe 17 and working at the local amusements. I don’t know what happened next. I think the next day he turned up at my place alone, we chatted and before I knew it he was becoming something to me.

We went out together for about 6 months. We got on very well and very rarely argued. For some reason finding words to describe him is hard, it’s like I have a private stash of them but they are protected. I protect them because the relationship was perfect, and even now we are still friends.  I say perfect not because the relationship was all daisies and glitter, but because it was honest. When the day came when we realised we were too young to settle we were honest and we cut each other free. Not the easiest thing to do and over the first week of our seperation there were a lot of tear and confusion (he would finish work and appear at my door, forgetting we were no longer together. But it’s that honesty that has always stayed with me.


Karen Hayward ©2015