I sometimes catch my shadow

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I sometimes
catch
the not so distant
sound of footsteps
lurking in past
shadows
walking
behind us.
Do you hear
mine? Bleeding,
tar like energy
through the
Open vines of our
existence.
Then the sun rises
and our past
shadows creep
Into our future self’s
Vivid darkness
contrasting light
I sometimes hear
the footsteps
of your shadowed
past creeping
alongside my
demons and I
wonder are they too
tied by the echos
of ancient maps.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image and words

Nothing comes, whilst it all is there

I never thought that I would care.

A chemical reaction and skin that is bare

and that bit of you, that you’d readily share.

But i’m without claim and freedom is yours

so take her if you please, do it on all fours.

Body to body it’s an action of lust

has nothing to do with emotional trust.

So why…

Why did nobody say that the lines become blurred,

that you’ll see emotions written in the words.

Excitement of touch falls to the page

and in that moment I hear what you say.

Words for another

as you explore a new lover.

And perhaps it makes sense

my emotional descent.

It’s more than the skin, the touch and the feel

it’s spirits that touch a connection so real.

And I did not expect didn’t know it was there

but the response that I got, was to be shown that 

I care.

Karen Hayward (copyright) 2015 Image via wordpress library

If Poseidon would only pardon you for a moment

It’s odd, the thoughts
that haunt. . .
Do I make you proud?
Or is shame upon
your eyes.
Does your smile
brighten the heavens;
or are you frowning,
watching me drowning,
where I think
I’m swimming,
winning, some
would say sinning?
Where are you?
I reach out, feeling
for your touch,
I look, I search,
On butterfly wings
and floral scents,
then the radio plays
our song, and still
I’m left to wonder,
am I right or am I
wrong.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017 Image and words

A proposal of thought…


… to know my worth exceeds the grave and cradle, that each breath holds meaning and each second depth, yet,
When I ponder of my existence I feel more alone than ever.

I do not wait for the apocolypse; neither enlightenment nor end days for both it seems to me pander to the reaper…
… And I find no sense in surviving the darkness in wait for God’s mighty hand of justice, for what point lays in waking, breathing or ultimately kindness.

… I do not believe my woes to be the karmic debt of my Father or his before, have you ever met these men? To spend a moment in their presence is to know the strength of my conviction.

I tear holes in the ideology that we are born to die, that greatness is achieved on death, I ponder how many false martyrs are formed this way.

The same sun that will warm my soul will also burn my skin, and the same snow that ignites my spirit will freeze my heart, yet still I can be found dancing beneath them and when eventually I die, I will tell great stories of the way Gaia touched my soul, the way stars ignited my heart, the way darkness gave me light and light gave me darkness.

… And when I am before my Diety,
when I am asked,
am I happy to be home,
I will say yes..

“But to have lived, is the greatest adventure of my existence.”

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image found via wordpress library 

All the things I never knew, I never knew.

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I didn’t know that
love wasn’t
the drowning
of desire,
The suffocating
of need,
The blanketing
of lust.

I never knew
Love was
compromise
beyond myself,
or that sacrifices
shouldn’t
hurt.
I never knew
that love
was strength.

I didn’t know
love could be
anything
other than
weakness,
that the body
held value
or that my voice
was a treasure.

I never knew
I deserved,
that I could be
that I was,
that I am
that I will be,
I never knew.

I didn’t know love
wasn’t the silent
punishment,
the hateful glares
and egg shell
carpet.
I didn’t know
my heart should
swell, but
never shatter.

I didn’t know
all the things
love was
and
I never knew
it would be you
to teach me.

Karen Hayward (c)2017
Image and words.

Searching the endless realms…

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You can search the far corners of the universe,
the celestial skies, the underground flames,
the karmic rebound or heavens garden,
and you will still never find inner peace…
whilst you search the doctrines for your
short comings. May I suggest a mirror?
For our ‘world’ is only ever a reflection of
ourselves, we are the cause of our infliction’s

Karen Hayward*©2017.
Image found on pinterest.

The darkness it cocoons me. 

Early to bed, early to rise in the darkness of an infinate sky. Silence accompanies me from the shadows engulfed in the echos of lonesome foot steps, intrepid indignation of the souless tip toeing through dreams collecting their jar of essence. The empty echo of existence cocoons me in comfort, alone as the universe continues ticking by my reflection is lost in the mottled skies.  The blind become the seers as the seers fall blind, the conscience offers tickets to a map of my mind, front page refusal for the story they would find. And so the night becomes recluse and i fall from the stars shadow fingers  claw my skin opening old scars. And darkness it becomes me seeping through the pores, begging that I dance with it, just once more. 
Karen Hayward ©2017

A web of beauty.

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Weave for me a web of beauty.
With chaos delicately threaded
though strands of passion that
spill into life. Fill it with unknown
questions and curious minds that
search the horizon without fear
of ego or pride. Show me a soul
seeped in golden glittered rays
of a dusking sun, hues of love
shadowing past pains. Give to me
freckles, messy hair, mismatched
socks and a spirit that laughs.
For what is a lake without the
dragonfly, a sky without the sun,
a window without a trail of abandoned
Kiss imprints.
What is life…without life?

Karen Hayward © 2016 (image and words)