I am not beauty…

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I am not beauty.

I am not breath taking radiance

glimmering beneath the waking sun.

I am not sensuality.

My lips do not beg to be kissed,

my eyes do not whisper ancient

secrets,golden honey embracing

forgotten touch, fingers tracing

blossoming buds.

I am not elegance.

I am not ornate sophistication

my words do not dance across

the evening breeze in perfect

symmetry.

I am not wisdom.

My every thought is not seeped

in depth swimming in the pools of

unread books written before time began.

I am not intelligence.

I do not know the answers to the

unasked questions, I cannot speak

in a thousand tongues, or caress

the broken ego’s of the literate.

I am a poet.

I am neither beauty nor sensuality.

I am the gold dust sprinkled

across the oceans ebbing tide, I am

the shadow whispering across the curve

of my hip as moon light teases my naked form.

I am the unspoken elegance

known by a few and wanted by the masses.

I am sophistication suffocating

momentarily for my sins.

I am the ancient calling of an

old soul, wise enough to learn,

naive enough to discover.

I am but a dragonfly dancing

through transformations,

skipping across summer breezes,

borne into majestic waters I

am the translucent wings…

I am but a poet, I create all that I am not.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

 

 

 

What tears us down?

What tears us down?

Is it the world or our own infidelity towards ourselves?

What makes us feel anger when in reality another persons actions rarely has any direct impact on us?

What makes us feel fear when every day of our lives we face the ultimate fear of death?

Is the world really to blame for our indiscretions or are we?

If on Friday 13th of any given month I were to walk under a ladder whilst smashing a mirror because a black cat crossed my path, would I really wind up with years upon years of bad luck? Or would I just feel a little silly for carrying a mirror in my hand whilst out walking and so busy day dreaming that I tripped on a cat?

Can we really blame the world when things go wrong?

Is it the worlds fault that we have single people in it?

Is it really so bad to be whole without another half? Is love really the be all and end all of this adventure we lead until we return to the ground? Why do we allow heart ache, we cannot at any point control another persons emotions, but in what way does that make it our fault? Are we really doomed because we are so busy loving everyone that we forget to love ourselves?

What is the meaning of life and why are we here?

If love is the reason for our being, if the searching and finding of our soul mate is the only purpose of this journey, then should we not die on point of contact? Should we not see them across a crowded room, touch them, kiss them and then fall into them as our beating hearts stop. Forever. And if this is not the true purpose of our lives then why does the world stop turning for so many when their soul mate has a different path to theirs? Who is to blame for this indiscretion? The lover? The world? It is said that two souls are destined to find each other, so why do people continue to believe that their soul mate exists, but are living a different life?

If soulmates are real then so are the angels that watch them. Is the world to blame when you cannot trust that your angels will direct you correctly?

Who is to blame when I am pushed into a corner and my emotions run wild? The world that pushed me there? Or is it me. Am I the cause and effect of my own stampede of indiscretion.

If I am the owner of the love that I share, of the lust that I feel, of the happiness that I throw back into the world, then surely I too am the owner of my pessimistic views? Surely I too own my spiteful tongue and hate fueled fury?

Why do we spend so much time fearing what makes us whole? Does the world dictate that such feelings are invalid? That to feel these things some how makes you less of a human?

What tears us down? The world? Or is it us? Do we place unavoidable obstacles in our own way? Do we believe that life is magical and yet constantly strive to find a scientific explanation for our emotions?

What tears us down, the world? Or is it the indiscretions toward ourselves, our very own infidelity, that breaks us?

 

Karen Hayward (copyright) 2015.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have a friend…

I have a friend

who I fantasize about.

He could be a she

and she

could be a he.

But still they would only occupy

the part of my mind where I fantasize.

I have a friend who I can talk to

for hours and days.

Together we both speak with passion.

He could be a she and

she could be a he.

Yet still they would only occupy that

part of mind responsible for chatter.

I have a friend that I can laugh

for hours with.

he could be a she and

she could be a he.

And still it wouldn’t change

that they would only occupy

a small section of my mind.

I have a friend who I can love

because I should, because it feels so

very natural.

He could be a she and

she could be a he.

Still they would merely

occupy the love quarter

of my mind.

I have a friend who I love

and I fantasize about,

who I passionately talk with and

who I can laugh alongside. He could be

a she and she could be a he, and still

I wouldn’t understand how it is they

got there and exactly where about’s

they are.

Our path is not mapped out.

Our path is not drawn out in red like an underground map
From the moment we are conceived.
We are not given a glimpse of it as our spirit passes through into our mothers womb.
Our path is buried deep inside our soul,
It is smothered when we drift too far from our goal,
It is lit making our spirits dance when we are near.
It is our path alone, and is filled with tragedy so we may learn,
And love so we may grow.
It is the fluttering wings of the converted caterpillar,
The sense of knowing, when no word is said,
The peeling petals, when our heart feels dead,
our path is not drawn out in red,
It is the places,
The friends,
The paths we choose to tread.