Lost in all but my ancient name.

SS850442 (2)

*from draftbox

No red flag blowing in a breeze of knowledge

at half mast as I jump from the cliff edge into the

jagged pool of broken glass. Hindsight is such a

glorious possession, we hold it captive deep within

our minds until long after the pain has healed

and we are clear from obstruction,

only then can we declare a deeper knowledge.

Young, the essence of Peter Pan still swarming in

my blood I stood upon the glass verge and plunged

headfirst into the crowd of faceless clones.

How I longed to be normal, to know a love

that transcended time and held me safely

within its hands caressing every contour of my soul.

Passion, the dying man’s feast at the devil’s table,

Satan has it set for two, never did he plan to invite you.

A baron temptress darkness seeped into

the hollow spaces of my spirit,

the moon no longer spilled crystal dust

across my naked skin, Helios hung is head

in shame as I was lost in all but my ancient name.


Karen Hayward ©2016

A blank canvas of creation.

Written in response to a picture prompt over on g+ you can find the prompt here.

The stark emptiness of a blank canvas unfurling before my eyes. A lush carpet of soft blades of fresh grass tickling my senses as I explore bare foot around the confines of my existence. Will you walk there with me into the unknown? With a touch of my finger I will spread daisies across the horizon, white petals dancing gently in the breeze as yellow faces search for Helios. The aged trees in their wisdom will bend their branches and form for us a bed, softened with moss from the woodland grounds and decorated with delicate star white petals, as the soft scent of Jasmine dances on the summer breeze. Will you lay at my side and let me map the contours of your body with a trail of gentle kisses shimmering in the golden sunlight that caresses our uninhibited bodies?  And as I dance freely across this canvas of creation, rose bushes of every colour will bloom beneath the shadows of my foot prints, a floral dance floor for the twilight hours as Selene watches from the heavens and creates a pool of tranquility in which for us to bathe, sprinkled delicately with her crystalised devotion. And what beauty will you bring to my vision? Will you lay your palms upon the earth and create for me peahens and peacocks so I may see the beauty of his train as he calls to his love? Will you tread upon the luscious grass and leave behind a trail of promised dandelion wishes, for me? Will you look to the heavens and request shooting stars to illuminate our skies? Will you look to the clouds and ask for warm rain to fall from the skies so we may dance together beneath the falling droplets? The stark emptiness of a blank canvas unfurling before our eyes.


Karen Hayward ©2016