Heatwave Central

Does it make me a traitor to the cause
To say…
Are my words stained in ancient curse
If I declare…
Will I be banished to the outer realms
for my freedom to speak?
Am I a hypocrite?
I’ve spent my months, my weeks, my days
demanding it.
And now, I need a reprieve
a moments cooling
s seconds shade…

… Or rain.
Anything to cool the heat
this heatwave is bloody insane
staying cool is all in vain
Scorching Heat all through the day…

An ally to the cause I’m not,
This weather
Is just too
god damn hot.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image and words

Coldness. 

Cold cuts through me to the core,

As winds whistle from beneath the door. 

Storms forming of winters gloom

pulled from slumber all too soon. 

This coldness is not my friend, 

I wonder will this shivering ever end. 

Coldness cutting me my bones do freeze,

as autumn skips through dying leaves. 

BlNkets and hot water bottles pulled into my chest,

I plead these heat will help me rest. 

Eyes sore and muscles long hurting after lack of sleep,

Coldness penetrates so deep. 

Coldness penetrates so deep,

Insomnia, anything, so those dreams they’ll keep. 
Karen Hayward ©2016

Heated towels.

I need a heated towel.
Not a radiator.
Not a heated towel rail.
Not even a tumble dryer
or a steaming iron.
I need a heated towel.
I need to wrap myself
in warmth to thaw this
chill.
I need a body towel.
Heated.
Not warm or tepid.
Heated.
To ease the cold spasms
of my aching body.
It needs a hood with satin
pull cords to ensure
the heat stays in.
I’ll need a catheter.
Once hot I refuse to remove
not even to wee.
One day the cold damp
of Britain will kill me.
I need to move.

Karen Hayward ©2016

Flames of desire in my veins.

image

Your fingers are deep under my skin,
Telling me off the pleasure they can bring.
Tantalising me from within.

Letters that forms words that form fantasies,
with offerings of pleasure to please.
Will this heat inside me ever ease?