Today I shall call you petal,
the delicate bloom of beauty
I will tell you, your eyes are
radiant, oceans of love, you
will giggle and say, we have
the same eyes mum and I
will smile. I will not tell you
that the depth in mine is
a lifetimes scars and yours,
your depth of blue is the
skies, innocent and pure.
Today I will call you petal,
my gentle blue blossom
peeling away layers your
heart atomized into
a fragrant love that
disperaes upon the suns
rays. Today I will call you
my petal, my love, my
favourite flower whispering.
into each day with silken
pleats of beauty. Yes,
today my darling gal,
I will call you my petal.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017
Image and words

Peaked beauty.


A pregnancy memory…

Sometimes from
Out the blue my
female gene ties
me down and
suffocates me
in memory.
Warm water,
silent blue skies,
Just me and you.
My stomach
an oblong mass
of transformation.
Was it your feet?
Or your bum?
Pushing at me.
Every time.
A hate or a love?
Fear or excitement?
Just us and a few
random birds
traversing their day.
You became a peak
Of perfection reaching
from beneath the ocean
of water, Stretching
perhaps. Maybe we
relaxed together.
I still feel the skin
beneath my fingers as
you pushed a perfect
triangle and we
bonded, an unbreakable
tie. . .unbreakable.

Karen Hayward (c)2017
Image and words.

The soul that embraces inner beauty. 

For some beauty is in the eyes,

The hair that falls perfectly

And the flawless skin or the 

Lips that plead to be explored 

Beneath the layers of colour

Artistically drawn across the 

Previous canvas….But for some

Of us, beauty is in the soul and 

The way it spills naked across 

The contours of the body. The eyes

That have more depth than colour

And the lips not afraid to smile

And hair so wild it has long given 

Up on being tamed…

Yes, for some us beauty is in the soul. 

Darkness within.

Your darkness draws me in like a cold winters night,

wrapping itself around my body, creeping under my skin.

Your darkness whispers to me as the breeze whispers

to the changing leaves on an early autumn night.

Your darkness caresses me like the spring sun that

creeps in to warm the freezing days .

Your darkness ignites a flame deep inside of me that burns

like the deep heat of a clear summers day.

Your darkness is under my skin, your darkness

found the darkness I hide within.


Karen Hayward ©2015



The 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


Am I?

Am I a shadow? Is that why nobody knows,

the things that I think, the things that I show.

Am I a dandelion in a field full of sunflowers?

Hidden by petals up there on the tower.

Am I the soft breeze that blows in a storm

I really do wonder if I even have form.

Am I the mist hidden by the sea’s spray

would anyone know if this mist didn’t stay?

Am I anything other than toil

or am I simply the left over soil?


Karen Hayward ©2015




Calm intoxicates my mind.

Ever changing.
Ever thinking.
Ever needing.
Never stopping, never resting.

An open invite,


Muted, vivid saturation.

I see nothing,

I sense nothing.

I think nothing.


Calm intoxicates my mind.

Karen Hayward © 2015.