Quenched

And so woke an
envious mind
a subtle craving
a gentle image
grasping at
dreams…
… the
bottle between
your hands
the glass between
your fingers
the neck at your lips
Your tongue
saturated
nectar spilling
into your mouth
and the way your
eyes caress
her curves
seconds before
you place the
ice cold
bottled beer to
your lips and she
quenches your
primal thirst.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image and words

Snow day 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

No claim to the image 

Adults look foolish – wordprompt

Give to me a life of laughter
Smiles, silly faces and random noises all submerged into an existence where *adults look foolish*
Lend to me days and seconds and weeks and minutes where the foolish look (as) adults traipsing through the playground of growing up in a world governed by Pan and designed by Tink. I am suffocating beneath the corruption of adult expectation, too quirky to grow old gracefully and to delicate to survive Neverland and the endless swings and roundabouts. My toes tingle when forced into heels, my hips twitch, my fingers rat a tat tat my eyes crawl across the landscape looking for adventure, but alas all I ever find is greyscale billboards declaring, “Do not play on the equipment of life, else stuffy adults look foolish” and I sigh, imagine myself a cherry pie, lay back and dream of clouds floating by.

Karen Hayward ©2018

 

This poem was inspired by a wordprompt I came across this morning by the talented Teresa Creation’s check out the prompt by clicking right here on this word….boom

Three word prompt #69 “adults look foolish”

 

Image from wordpress library 

Apocalyptic future of Sunday lunch

Be warned. These are not
the harmless swans of your
time, these ducks will not
quack around your feet
for bread when they can
instead devour your flesh.
No. Such days of balance
have passed, we live now
behind salvaged glass.
Oh the lulling nature of
serenity and the clockwork
beating of their hearts
as teeth gnash and wings
tear limbs. Still my mouth
salivates for what they once
were, their blood now
diseased, the chem trail
apocolypse the hunted
became the hunter. Bow
now before the Kings
of our time, death came
death took and left
only the zombie of mind.
The geese, the ducks
the royal swans. . .
the seagulls pecking still
at rotting carcuses across
our desolute shores,
and so we live now,
shut behind glass doors.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Raucous screams of twilight giggles

My fingers are forever
searching
for your skin, my tongue
for your essence of taste
and my lips for your desire
and its deep penetrative
lust that tugs at my core
as implosive need begs
to rise on your command.

My mind plays a constant
reel of black and white stills
in an abandoned cinema,
red velvet soft on skin
low lights and high rises
A silent movie as the
two of us
explode in raucous
screams of delight.

My skin is forever
searching for your touch
my need begging to become
tongue tied in your
embrace, as our lips
whisper of needs known
to few and I am found
in the presence of you.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Seemingly bottomless.

Art Work of Alice in Wonderland <3 <3

Perhaps the fall is
like Alice’s hole,
seemingly bottomless,
lined with trinklets,
jars of memories, speckled
stars of hope,
freckled fragments of
love.
And storms, of course storms.
Hazardous hailstorms of despair raining down upon
Queen of tarts,
of hearts,
of tarts and hearts
and perhaps the
odd King hiding in the
recesses of time.
Maybe, falling in love is
like the mad Hatters tea party, chipped china,
pretty pastels,
cucumber sandwiches,
forever there, forever gone,
always coming and
never wrong.
For, there is always time for tea, always a tomorrow,
another cup,
good and bad,
It’s a given,
a promise of a brighter
day, a loving embrace within
the sweet liquid nectar.
And yes, there will be
mouldy bread, curdled milk,
Flies of destruction.
There will be sugar
thieves and odd concoctions,
but there will always be
tomorrow,
another tea party.
Yes, perhaps falling
in love is just like
falling into
Alice’s world.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017
Image found on pinterest

Luscious puddles.

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A timeless crackle of air
the heavy draw of rain,
pitter pattering life’s
concert, a symphony
played before a lit up
arena, the skies roar
their encouragement.
Waves of water
cascading
into luscious
green grass.

I walk for a moment bare foot
feel the rain on my skin
and the thunder in my soul.

Karen Hayward (C)2017
Image found on pinterest