When the Bluebells Bloom

Oh, what a mistake we've made,
You never should have gone,
You really should have stayed.
So many years have come and gone,
So many tears, so many wrongs.
With lovers for company,
we were never alone,
are all chances finally blown? 
Or does the lure of the extraordinary,
that hides beneath the ordinary,
call out your name,
can things ever be the same.
Oh, what a mistake we made.

Karen Hayward ©2012 - Edited 2020 Image and words

Cleaner reqiured

If I gather up
the cracked
pieces of
timeless
porcelain,
the shattered
grains of soul,
the shards of
spirit, the
chipped remains
of identity…
With my heart
in pieces;
perhaps you
could help me
tidy them into
neat piles of
rationality, dust
away the insanity.
Fill the voids
with self believe,
polishing them
with self confidence
long lost in the
devils hour.

Karen Hayward* ©2018

A shadow of loves breath

Recent rains bring
a post cold air
that snakes,
gingerly through
my hair,
It leaves a dark
shadow across my hip,
an empty white void,
Baby, your hand should be there,
It stains hard across my back
the empty imprint of your torso,
but baby, the space is bare,
It leaves a faint
Speckled constellation,
across naked shoulders
hints of the kisses
we’ll share.
The cool breeze weaves
through my hair
as dreams call to me
alone in the night..

… And I tell the cold night breeze
that I want you, I want you there.

Karen Hayward ©2018

To gather lost pieces.

redhairwings

If I gather up
the cracked
pieces of
timeless
porcelain,
the shattered
grains of soul,
the shards of
spirit, the
chipped remains
of identity,
perhaps you
could help me
tidy them into
neat piles of
rationality, dust
away the insanity.
Fill the voids
with self believe,
polishing them
with self confidence
long lost in the
devils hour.

Karen Hayward* ©2017
Image and poem.

Desire, the lost beacon.

And if the many whispers of the past could rise and caress the inner child of my thoughts with the abandonment of reality. Rich in blind trust, eager to explore the contours of love. Fresh blood innocence lost in the darkness as golden rays of sprinkled showers bless the inner workings of my fragile state. Heavens kiss would radiate the shine wihin my soul, illuminate my lost path within this labyrinth of adulthood. Desire, the lost beacon of hope, would lead me through the darkness into the forgotten realm  of light.
Karen Hayward ©2016