Give to me please my muse…

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Give me paper to appease my soul and passion to fill my inkwell,

give me life flushed from living and drained from loving.

Give me pens, of many colors each one a speckle of my essence.

Give me a living canvas, breathing my air and tasting my spirit,

dust it in golden sun rays and ice it in moon beams to

sweeten the hidden depths of sin. Give me crumpled

edges and torn corners, ink blots and strike through’s.

Give me an endless ream with pause breaks for tears

and laughter lines tearing the core. Give me a hb pencil.

Chewed at one end and blunt, let it write my heart with

the smoothest of ease, love spilling through graphite,

lust splitting paper, let desire become the heavy lines

and fear the faint whisper of grey on white. Yes, give me

paper, a canvas, a living body to embody my soul upon.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words.

i’m a muddle…

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I’m a muddle of repeated songs, odd socks and wild hair.

I care too much and yet care too little, i’m as fragile as a

porcelain doll that refuses to break when thrown against the wall,

but will chip at the slightest sign of mistrust.  My hands are

a battleground of clumsiness and my skin wears proudly

the pale hue of my heritage. My eyes truly are the windows

to my soul they whisper the secrets of pain I hide

and scream of the excitement rushing in my veins.

Yeah, i’m a muddle of chaos and calm, vivid and pale

rich, enigmatic hues of a wandering soul…

 

Karen Hayward ©2018

image and words

Befalling lost essence…

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When I search, my eyes befall an empty page,
stained in lustrous thoughts of yesteryear,
Swimming deep in oceans of passions rage.
Signed with forgotten wishes craving you near.
When I look darkness suffocates my naked form,
Plunging me through desirous gates
Skin ravaged by kisses on this bright new morn,
A yearning so deep I can wait no more…

I watched you chase my words across the skies
colored deep with passionate blues
I remember when I was always lost in your eyes
no way out, but still looking for any clues
all i wanted was to hold you tight
but held hostage by different colored hues
still lurking desperate in the dark night
because the pages were empty of the news
once mine.. ..my kisses led you there
to those scenes we created with ecstatic flair
then locked in desirous embrace
we became one.. and melted into space..

Karen Hayward and Michael Montoya ©2017

 

Till the ink becomes blood.

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If I could. . .

I would spend all day writing
And all night reading
Ideas evolving
And concepts breeding.
I would watch every sun setting
and see it as a new day seeding.
True soul nourishment breathing
My psyche feeding.
Beneath moons we’d sit kissing
the violent rush of our hearts beating
My pencils scribbling
Ink of need my pens drawing.
With time true art would begin thawing
an explosion of thoughts all storing.
An implosion of life breeding,
Happiness evolving,
I would spend all day writing
And all night reading.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image and words

Sensuality of a blank canvas.

There’s no space on the page where my words can settle without burning
the sheet to ash. Speckles of ash that are lifted into the breeze, thoughts
carried away into the universe.
There’s no way to spill the calm of chaos into a logical sentence that can
be read and understood, rarely can the light walkers understand the dark.
There’s no way to create form with a desire that walks on the edge of
nothingness, no perfect Haiku to whisper in code, or sonnet to bumpily
rhyme away sinful thoughts.
Perhaps if I had an invisible pen i could write of the desires, I could tell of
the thoughts that would make even the devil blush.
I could explore the page with a fresh energy, words trailing, thoughts
wandering as do fingers or eye’s or the passion that sits on the
lips of a lover.
Or perhaps, I can write in rhyme safe in the knowledge that the beat will
hide from sight my continual need for you.
Trivialization of such thoughts feels like a form of infedelity to myself, to
the empty space in front of me, to the blank page that can become so
much, yet begs me to not make a liar of it.
Perhaps the emptiness is better than being compliant and trying to force
delicious chaos into some form of normality.

Karen Hayward ©2015

Ideas evolving And concepts breeding.

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If I could. . .

I would spend all day writing
And all night reading
Ideas evolving
And concepts breeding.
I would watch every sun setting
and see it as a new day seeding.
True soul nourishment breathing
My psyche feeding.
Beneath moons we’d sit kissing
the violent rush of our hearts beating
My pencils scribbling
Ink of need my pens drawing.
With time true art would begin thawing
an explosion of thoughts all storing.
An implosion of life breeding,
Happiness evolving,
I would spend all day writing
And all night reading.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image and words

Kisses to the celestial skies And wishes on dandelion seeds.

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Words slip from my tongue

Like kisses to the celestial skies

And wishes on dandelion seeds.

Passion spills like water from

A fountain, rain in spring

And puddles with tip tapping ripples.

Goodness, need seeps from

My mind with careless desire

Taking me higher…

It’s a choice you see, igniting

Flames, choosing life

Not cold, blessings given

My soul leaks into my

Existence ignoring my

Resistance, devouring my

Mind it is so very insistent!

Thoughts escape the confines

Of my mind.
Karen Hayward ©2017