I am the swirl,

the turn and the mix,

colours blended,

way beyond fix,

I am the screams,

the pierces of light,

I am the silence

I am the flight.

I am the flurry

instrewed upon sight

the westward sun

and the abandoned night.

I am the silence

out just for kicks

I am the swirl

the curve and the flick,

I am the swirl,

the curve

and the kick.

Karen Hayward ©2018 Image and words

Multiverse of possibilities.

Collaboration between myself and a very talented poet/writer/creator Blueflamez.

Check out more of his work on the link at the bottom! 🙂


Forget the Ink, forget the page.. Let us entwine thoughts

and become the very essence of poetry. We’ll dedicate the

blank spaces between letters to the creation of our realities

based upon our fantasies. Quills together in shared unison,

a creative rush of chaotic lunacy…the building blocks of

moral sanity a pandemic thought spread throughout

humanity.Think about the concept, the art, those same

words embedded in your mind, the margin, the heading,

the facts you can piece together, and tear apart. The real

challenge is shaping up and breaking down the mental

blocks that can hold you back, only to channel that creative

spread that surrounds you, and unlock that potential.

Harness the power of a world within the world, the multiverse

of possibilities, choices, to see the mirror image of who

you were, to the person you’ve become. You are the pages,

you are your eternal life of spoken truths, and written fantasies,

your signature is your personality as your greatest work of all.

The letters of your existence a strong hold of knowing,

unknowing becoming and undoing. Call your name into

the cosmos, start with an inaudible whisper if you must,

there is no rush. Say it, shout it, call it from heavens bed

sign your essence across the skies of men.

Sign your soul across the minds of man.

Karen Hayward & poetryflamez ©2017

Image Karen Hayward ©2017

Find more of poetryflamez work here.




Amber and Blue.


Amber and Blue

When you think of me before I do
When you think of me instead of you
my everything in a world untrue
You are the silver and the gold
The amber and blue
A crescendo of rhythm in my heart unfolds
the little things you do,
is the everything I hold.
From amber and blue
aura everlastingly bold
I can feel love’s brightest glow
Let the the notions of love
be the binding glue
in you i find the beauty
In all that you do
Vibrant and alive..
like amber and blue
I can only cherish the fates that made you mine
A flaming joy in crystalline time
You are the sparkle the starlight sublime
The gravity that holds me close to you.
the beauty of love in the amber and blue

(c) 2016 Michael J. Garland
(c) image Karen Hayward

More of Michael’s amazing poetry can be found on his Google plus page…


Freewrite-today I think I saw a saw wielding maniac.

So thought I would take a break tonight from poetry, and share instead a memorable moment from my day….hey, i kinda like that idea, i might start doing this daily. Anyway, so I was walking to work, day dreaming along the way, when I had just turned into a small road that leads to an alley that leads to the very back of the carpark of a supermarket (I work in what they call a pod outside of the supermarket) the sun was shining, blue skies, beautiful morning. Suddenly some guy comes out the alley carrying an electric saw. Of course me being me my brain automatically clicked into action, in that split second I died at least a million different gruesome ways. Suddenly I was aware of my vulnerability, I was aware of the bushes and trees beside me, I was aware of the emptiness of the short alley, how far away the houses were and how deserted the streets were. But, more than that, I was aware that I was a writer, I was aware that intrigue made me stare intently at the mans hands, face, the electric saw, even though I knew that he could be a lunatic…although, maybe, just maybe, he was thinking the same of me as I crept past him smirking. I’m often told that I live inside of a bubble, that I don’t see the world for what it truly is, they’re right, I see the world in many ways, the way it could be and often the way it should be. I am far from idealistically perfect, and I can see bad and gruesome and horrific in most things, perhaps a reflection of inner turmoil, or perhaps I see the world with clearer eyes than most believe. The young man with his skinny face and strawberry blonde hair was probably off to cut someone’s tree or bush, i’m just grateful he chose not to chop me into thousands of pieces, cos seriously do you know how hard it is to get blood out of shirts?!
I may need to consider a different route once as the nights draw in, the ally might not be the best way, my feeble little heart will not take it!

Pandoras box.

I got you out today,
For just a moment,
Not the entirety,
Just a bit.
I didn’t say
I check each day,
or that i wish there
Was a way,
I didn’t tell
Of the living hell,
Of knowing,
That i
am not
Or how tough
It is,
To know that
From a far,
A distant star.
Now i have
To put you back,
Hide you
In a
Broken crack,
Unseen from the world,
Unseen from this girl.

© Karen, A. Hayward

The chaotic thoughts of creative mind.

I write,
Not for fame,
Or the hope of one day seeing my name
Scrawled across the cover of an unnamed book.
I write,
So that i can see, i can look,
At the chaotic thoughts
That get caught
Up in my mind.
No thought gets left unseen,
The good, the bad and the in between.
My mind works so fast,
no scenario slips past.
The wrongs the rights,
The dark and the light.
Every choice,
Every voice,
The what ifs, yeah buts,
Every posable rut.
Sometimes, I follow my gut,
and depend on good luck,
but even then,
I’ve thought about when,
Why, how,
Even now.
I can tell you the thought process,
On every angle of my lifeless
No decisions are made on a whim,
I look deep, never skim,
Consider me, consider this,
Is it something i would miss.
I make my choice,
Knowing i will lose my voice,
I’d make it again,
so It wasn’t in vain.
Every decision is well thought out,
i didn’t think hard about.

© Karen, A. Hayward.

A free writing, free mind, thoughts.

Do you ever wonder why you found me hiding inside my precious bubble. Why, when you discovered me i whispered, a soft cool sound that rose to your voice.
It’s not the world that scares me, but the damage i can do to myself if
ever unleashed.
I know that i can do it, there is so much more that i can do, but i am scared, i am scared to stand up, for so many years i have been nothing, good at nothing, self discovery is amazing. To know that i can do something that takes so little effort, so little hard work, is a scary feeling, i am always waiting for the fall, always waiting for someone to say, enough, this is not your world. The numbers that mean so much to so many, mean so little to me, they are numbers, they can disappear. Everything can disappear, i wait, patiently for you, the words, the numbers, to disappear…i do not believe in myself, it is a mask, sometimes i wear it, sometimes i don’t.
Outside of my bubble, the world is harsh, i wear my heart on my sleeve, my soul upon my face for all too see, i trust and i give with happiness, with love, but the world is harsh, sometimes, i think i am too delicate for it, too fragile. I am the two separate halves of everything that is good and bad in this world. I am the pink petal that falls from the cherry blossom tree….but i am also the fiercest defender of my soul.