Tag: mist

In the oceans mist, essence of ancient calling. 

seamist

And when i couldn’t

 reach the ocean

To tell you of my pain,

The ocean came to me

Whispering your name.

On wisps of salty mist

Kept promises, not a wish,

Curling round my soul

Eternal’s loving kiss.

There within the mist

My eternal’s loving kiss.
Karen Hayward ©2017

Image found on Pinterest

 

Oh glorious mist, take me home, take me home.

seamist

Oh glorious mist, like rich silken threads

pouring delicately through the streets

of a lost concrete horizon. Take me, weave

for me a cloak of such splendor my naked

form will sing to the heavens of divine pleasure.

Oh dear, glorious mist, your ocean scent

speaks of ancient home, my soul yearns

for your touch. Kiss me, with a thousand

tongues, atom for atom, seep within me

and search for the essence of my core.

Ensnare me, oh dear glorious mist, ensnare

me within your silken fingers. Tantalise my

porcelain skin, graze the sensitive skin upon

my neck, your gentle smoke wrapping around

my beating heart, beating for you,

for you,

for you.

Sea mist, my truest love, let me nestle deep

within the droplets of home, so I may hide

from the darkness that is life. Swathe me

in all that is sensual, let passion rise and

entwine, take me home,

dear glorious mist,

take me home.

Karen  Hayward ©2016

Image found on google search.

 

The pleasures of the past.

As the mornings sea mist swirls around my legs

curling around my hips caressing my breasts,

seeping deep inside my soul

whispering of secrets that only I know

I feel the distant echo

of every lovers touch, grow

as their kisses remain upon my lips,

their words scrawled across my skin

and their touch tantaslised out

by the snaking mist…

like a reminiscent wish

to feel again the pleasures of the past.

Karen Hayward ©2016

The crow among the mist.

I sit beside the open window and feel the damp morning air tingling across my bare skin. The rains scent is mingling with the morning birds beneath the grey skies and a soft haze clings lovingly to the lifeless street. A black crow watches me on the branch of a dead tree, his dark eyes surveying my every move I wonder can he hear the beating of my heart. I tie back my hair and let the morning freshness sweep across my shoulders I want to feel the fine mist on sun kissed face, but I can’t, the cock is yet to crow to signify the waking of my world. So for now I am happy sitting beside the open window as the feel of the mornings damp mist tingles across my bare skin.

Karen Hayward ©2016.

Vomit filled streets.

The morning call of savage seagulls tearing at the remains of a vomit filled carton of cheesy chips and some old guys home made mayonnaise. That white salty sauce laying impotent spewed across the cracked concrete as these vultures scream into the empty skies.

These are the roads that I grew up on, threw up on, screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

Ratgulls flapping away their disgruntled annoyance as the dustbin men screech into the road leaving a scented trail of rotting food, sweet and tangy clinging to the salty air long after the men tired and bored have finished retelling the seedy details of their sexual adventures.

These are the roads that I grew up on,threw up on,screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

The hustle and bustle of a day in the town. People wandering mostly they frown. Cars speeding by for a change in the route, the boy racers, girl chasers all of them familiar faces.Honk once for salute, honk three then flee coming back soon to see if i’m free. Still the days came and went much most the same not a day of those years did I ever think lame.

These are the roads that I grew up on,threw up on,screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

The days end, heavy sea mist rolling through the streets cleansing away the Saturday blues. Promises of sex whistling on the clouded air, the deep scent of lust clings to your hair. Cider the choice of the little girls voice. Giggling as they march to the piss filled huts where the guys sit and wait for the girls they will fuck.

These are the roads that I grew up on,threw up on,screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

Names blazened across the magnolia wall. I was here. Right here drunk and fueled by teenage hormones as the police car came screeching by. Watch this you whispered i’ll pretend to cry. Five in the morning why are you here? What are you doing with these cans of beer? There’s always a fall guy and that was never me, I simply can’t lie as the officers said there’s more you can be.

These are the roads that I grew up on,threw up on,screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

Vomit stained shoes and fog filled memories that haunt us still to this day. We lost a few good men along the way. Forgotten souls I see them still as the sea mist crawls through the streets of hell, snaking through their blood and the piss where they fell.

These are the roads that I grew up on,threw up on,screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

Karen Hayward ©2016