The puzzle pieces

Need a last minute valentines day gift? Then check out my latest poetry book, a collection of love, lust, desire and passion it’s the perfect way to tell them you love them!! And it’s so easy, Amazon allows you to ‘gift the ebook’ all you need is their email address…easy peasy!

His touch was like a puzzle piece
I never knew existed
Like all my awkward edges had purpose
and my quaint curves of self
had reason
like my skin had been forever searching
for the unknown that became known
the moment his hand
touched me
like the excited atoms of my skin
ignited
rejoiced, woke… Yes.. Like my soul woke up
like a touch I have always known
existed and yet never found

If it were a
strangers hand
on a busy city street
resting upon my skin
I’d have surely spent an
eternity searching
for its
origin.

but it was his touch,
and we are found…

Karen Hayward ©2019

When lust comes wrapped with golden bows

… I find it still lurking,
that broken fragment
at my core. A moralistic
demise speckled in
broken shards.
It is me,
an intrinsic scar on my soul.
The reflection of my
own self belief
that can only be
bandaged with
plasters of lust,
not love,
kissed with lips of desire,
not love…
A primal need for a
primal scar perhaps…

…but what happens
when love comes
wrapped in primal
kisses. When every
bite of carnal sin
tastes of ancient
love. When every
word is a stroke, every
syllable is a kiss,
every pause…
… A thrust of
liberated ownership…

… What happens then
to the scars of my
past, etched within
the dark recess of
my soul.

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image and words

Photo

When lust is the equilibrium

A love that intrudes upon a sinner
the vitreous belief of innocence
Worthy beyond this lust now that lingers
And tames those wild flames, fires of defiance

Can such exist within reality?
monochrome hopes of Philia rising
Swimming in shallow depths of fantasy
spirit waned, drained, dull and duly drowning.

Alas, death would bring such peace to mere days
suffocating stifled air, spluttering
through the fractured death of celibate haze
that deems lust is the devils muttering.

But what if love could be tamed, bled with lust,
balancing the scale, with desire a must?

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image and words
#sonnet#love#Greeklove#philialove#lust

Photo

Let’s elope…

Baby, please, let’s be reckless for the night,
We’ll elope in darkness
Just me and you,
hang our entire futures intentions
upon those first kisses,
carve our initials
into all of our promised tomorrow’s.

Let’s be reckless for the night,
run away
as ancient forgotten lovers once did
we’ll walk beneath the moon’s
pearlescent light
moist sea mist clinging to our naked skin
and soothe the deep ache of our ageing souls,
we’ll sip on red wine from crystal glasses,
and create a melodious symphony
within the orchestra of our existence.

Let’s be reckless for the night and steal love,
borrow tokens of time to be spent now,
and paid in kisses of relentless need
that rises at the sound of each others voice,
let’s drown ourselves in a moments passion
creating memories from fantasies…

Let’s be reckless…

Karen Hayward ©2019

Image via wordpress library

Patience patiently taps a toe

Whilst patience always has been my virtue
There are days when I cuss the universe.
Moments when I ache for his kisses,
times when I crave the taste of my name
slipping across his lips
like imploding thoughts all
begging for
fantasy to become reality
and reality to be
all of the now’s we have
and in those pending
moments of now
is the definitive truth
and that right there
Is the core of my hunger
and only he can sate this
need, only he can
quench my thirst and
whilst patience always has
been my virtue,
there are days…

Karen Hayward ©2019

Image and words

Stop the endless search for purity

If only they would stop searching the endless paths of

hopeless fools that dominate the green green grass

of earth. If they could just stop looking to appease the

lost souls of the blind clones and their followers, they

could be free. They could strip away the insecurities

of an unstable society and walk the balance beam of chaos,

one foot in front of the other as their soul flies on ahead

to clear the way. If for a moment they could shake away

their prudish thoughts, let passion enter their minds, brush

away the dirt of a gentleman’s rule, they could know ecstasy.

The creeping wave that floods through the perfectly tuned body;

inhibitions left at the door, clothes strewn across the floor,

desire in the fingertips of fire, passion no longer

denied as the flames burn inside.

If only they could walk this path, leave behind the sins of

the clueless few who fear the strong. So much fear for the other side,

for those that walk bare skinned without sin beneath a veil

of devilish fun with tantalizing tales of lust, stories of trust

and moments in time of naked bodies never meant to

be mine. Alas, the path is their choosing all mottled in grey

always concerned for the place where they lay.

Karen Hayward ©2015