Supine in a moments serenity

3D somehow becomes

2D and I am

transported through time

to when clouds

were shapes

and the sky

was an endless

playground.

Terra tugs at my core

caressing lost strands

of self

as my inner child

sings nursery rhymes

fit for a killer.

Death lays all around me.

Abandoned graves

aging trees

Adulthood on the

lost lips of kids as

they grasp at the

milk cartons

and for a moment

I see St Nicholas

flying high through

cornflower blue skies

I close my eyes

for a last moments

reprieve

“please wake me

from this dream”

but no one hears

I am four and

discovering

that God does

not exist…

… I lay now,

supine in a

moments serenity

reflecting my daily

wish to wake from

this dream

they call life…

Karen Hayward ©2018

If tomorrow never happens…

image

If tomorrow never happens
if the sun forgets to come.
If darkness reigns the earth
will you know what you have done?
If coldness sweeps the land
and seas swell above a line.
If the horseman comes a begging,
will you know how you did shine?
If man stands divided, flames of devils lore,
Do you know what side you’ll fall on and are you really all that sure.

 

Karen Hayward ©2018

image and words

What is, what will, what haunts our breath. 

As we slept, your arms entwined in mine my hand gently sat upon your young skin, a part of me despised what grows within. The unseen expansion of pain that tears trough your existence, through my existence, for my every breath is yours. The verge of new days tainted in the screams of your hate…Will you grow to hate me with every test? Every prod, every needle, every tablet forced onto your young, tongue? A day will come when I will lean against that wall with the unsteady eyes of experience, I will know every crack in the ceiling, every word in the tattered leaflets, every echo of foot steps along that haunting hallway. And my days will become a display of constant, they will pray, but we both know God doesn’t always hear the words we say. 

KH©2017 . 

Golden Ego’s.

And whilst I sit and ponder the words of the creator, for a momentary pause I am engulfed in fear. It seems to me that it takes great ego to believe that beyond our existence lays the transcendence of our souls into the great folds of a universal love where we are whole and reunited with The one. To believe beyond doubt that we are worthy that we are enlightened and blessed only with the pure essence of love. And for the briefness of a second I ponder which heaven would be paradise for the outer realms of nothing appeases me more then a murky horizon filled with false hearts and golden ego’s.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

Dear God, do not place me upon that mountain.

Poem written in response to a picture prompt which can be found in this lovely g+ poetry community that I moderate in, feel free to come and read and join our growing community :). POET’s

Dear God,

Please hear now my whispers

as I plead for your assistance.

Give me the strength I

need for resistance.

The devil calls from the

mountain top,

her blind refusal?

or a game?

The devil in her guise,

just wont stop.

I beg you God.

Hear the pleas of my soul

Do not allow revenge my goal.

Do not place me upon that summit,

looking down on all those

that plummet,

I do not know what poison

swims among the unaware

that believes themselves so aware.

Or what blindness curses them so that

they do not care.

But disrespect is painted upon their every word

as they fly, believing they are free as a bird,

peering down from atop the mountain

the cries of a banshee the devil does sing.

Dear God,

Please, do not allow me to climb that range,

do not let the summit bless my soles,

as the devils mist penetrates my soul. God,

I beg you hear my pleas, keep me at

the foot among the humble and the free.

Karen Hayward ©2016

 

Take my hand the creator says.

‘You need only take my hand’.

he said.

‘It’s yours’.

I peer out from my monochrome shadows.

Only? I say.

Only?

Only I don’t say anything because

we both

know it is a statement of fear

and not a question.

Still I feel the warmth of his

presence upon me.

I have no questions only the

rapid beating of my heart

the rising pain that cuts at mt throat

as for a moment I am filled with hope.

He says I must only take his hand and I

can walk into a world of colour.

Only, it’s not my hand the creator wants.

He wants my blind faith.

He begs for my un-moving trust.

He pleads for my devoted love.

He wants my thoughts, my love, my hopes my desires.

He wants the sins I have lusted for to burn in the fires.

He wants my tears, my kindness, my hope,

he wants every idea i am able to sow.

‘You need only take my hand’. He says.

‘and it’s yours.’

I dip back into the shadows

one hand on the door edge

the other…

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

 

 

The vast emptiness of none existence

The silent echo of humanity scream but their voices make not a single sound. The vibrational reverberation of irrational fear, the shallow drive, the eager spirits the driving force that leads the masses to the devil’s gates. And oh how he rubs his hands in glee as he sings to the ancient song of pan and dances with sprites at his side. 

Selene where are you and your silver carriage when I need you most? The heavens skies are empty and I see no sign of your trusted snow white horses their names tantalisingly teasing the very atoms of our existence. Where is your shining light when my skies are plunged into darkness? .

Guardians of the souls that walk this earth why can i feel not the softness of your feathers against my cheek and the soft breeze of your beating wings. Where have you gone?  Your voice loud and clear beckoning me from my slumber still rings through my ears, but eyes open I see it is just myself, my weaknesses and the emptiness.

Dear darkness from whence the devil walks on tippy toes with a sly and silken smile, I hardly recognise his face or skin for I know only the touch of his sins. Prey tell me you hold captive the light inside my world. What damp and dismal sheer delight he must feel as he ponders the muse of my soul and shakes salt within my wounds.

I stare.up into the vast emptiness of cloudy sky, the moons glow and the twinkling stars bid farewell as the lights dull  and the skies scream in angry outbursts. Perhaps God is the devil and together they sit and ponder existence in the eyes of the divine. The morning bird beckons and soon Selene must hand back her reigns as day creeps ever closer.

I search the floor for my shadow  but as always I cannot find it, for in this life it is my truth to be forever searching fir the element of abandonment in the words of the spoken and the eyes of the silent.

Karen Hayward 2016