Insecurities rush, the blind side.

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It claws at me gently as hormones rise,

I know the uncertainty of insecure skies,

When enough, leaves and I see not a thing

Oh how I know what the short rise will bring.

But if nothing is all and all is free,

There’s nothing left for my broken soul, to see.

A blank page and empty space

Expect nothing, leave negative space.

I’m a whisper, a silhouette a bland empty ghost,

So alone I stand and alone I host.

Karen Hayward ©2017

What if…

This was my first ever poem on my blog back in September 2012, I was in my fifth year of study toward my English degree and about to embark on the creative writing and advanced creative writing modules and we were advised we needed writing outlet such as a blog……hmmm…that’s where I became a poet .

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What if…

What if karma, destiny and fate are all fake desires dressed up in the giuse of hope, but what if they are not.

What if our paths were always destined, our distance mapped out in the stars that guide us.

What if I am simply a good memory among so many bad ones, a memory designed to offer you hope.

What if that was always to be my purpose.

What if things had been different, I had been stronger, fought for my love, stood tall and confident, demanded to be seen and heard…would things be different?

What if all along, we were just meant to play cards in that old, battered, Black and White house.

What if that was our destiny.

Karen Hayward ©2012

Image found on pinterest

I will write again today…

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I will write again today.

I will write every day,

I will write myself through

the dark shadows,

I will write until my

pen runs dry and my page

is a chaotic constellation

of creation.

I will write myself free.

I will write till I become

what it is you see in me….

I will write again today.

Karen Hayward ©2017

(Image and words)

And if one day you turn and I am gone.

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From time to time we all fall our toes dirtied by decades of deceit at the callous hands of reality. And there among the simmering flesh we search the horizon for the hand that will lift us into the great heights of the heavens, for some that hand does in fact appear. But alas, for some of us it is the realisation that we are alone, no hand will reach for us. And so we must choose the numbing death of existence or life. I choose life, I will rise again from the ashes and reach to the skies for my dreams and I will do it alone. And if one day you turn and I am gone, search for me in life not the stagnant waters you swim in.

Karen Hayward ©2016

To my baby girl.

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Baby girl, when you were born and they placed your beautiful soul into my arms I made you, one, single, promise. I didn’t promise you diamonds or wealth, I promised the only thing I could give, love. There would never be a moment in your life when you wondered if I loved you, you would know this at a core soul level. When you was two and the doctors said, you have learning needs, I made you one, single, promise, I would become the voice you needed. I would fight every fear I have to stand toe to toe with authority, I would be your soldier. When you was five and you waltzed into that classroom, I made you just the one, single, promise, that even though you could not see me, I was there, always, wings outspread protecting you. When you were seven and you said, I don’t want to go to school, my heart broke, they had broken you and for a split second I let the world suffocate me, my soul burning in the ashes I was reborn. I screamed louder, I searched harder, I stopped at nothing, I became the dreaded parent that every teacher hates. When you was eight and you said, I like school, I once again began to breathe. This year I’ve seen your anxiety reach new levels, I’ve watched as finally your voice became a whisper, I’ve watched you crumple and bounce back again and one day I will write of when you was nine and everything changed, yet nothing changed for my promises to you, baby girl, they are a lifetimes promise. And so the story begins, when you was nine and you got to spend time with the therapy dog I saw the hinted whisper in your eyes that finally they could hear your inaudible cries. ♥

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

Watch “Spoken word poetry, Karen Hayward, Deceit of a poet.” on YouTube

I made this video months ago, it’s been lurking about, you see I want to do spoken word poetry I can do spoken word poetry I have one tiny problem, I’m camera shy. And the months are running out we are already half way through the year and this is my goal for the year. I see people do spoken word and they are so natural at it, they own the camera, they look beautiful in their I just threw this on kinda way, they articulate and look dreamily into the camera…not me, the camera goes on and I switch off!! But like I said we’ve hit the mid way point in the year and I need a kick up the arse. At first I decided I would do one poem and keep practising that one till I go great, I fucking despise that poem now so clearly that isn’t working, in fact I think reading a poem doesn’t help me, I’m too worried, I think I need a new plan…I also think I need an aggressive YouTube buddy that will hound me daily to do a daily video until I get to the point where I actually start to shine so I post this now as a declaration to myself that I still have dreams to conquer before the year is out :-)…..enjoy seeing me make a fool out of myself on video the crazy thing is I don’t actually care about making a fool out of myself my bad I hit bold, I’m not going back to delete, accept it :-).