Winter darkness.


The frost seeps into my finger tips

as my mind tears open and rips.

Frost lays across the top of cars

the sky is looking less angrily dark.

I search for the moon for her haunting stare

to know for a second that she looks down and cares.

I search and look but the sky lays dark

apart from the lonely northern star.

What are the skies without the moon?

A darkness that envelopes to soon.

Karen Hayward (copyright) 2015. Image and words.

Scorpion’s cusp Sagittarian’s rise.


Neither the centaur nor Scorpius.

The mythological bridge with a tail

that stings.

Both wanderers searching for truth.

Feed her sting with secrets so dark

and you’ll  fuel the archers love for life.

The Scorpian will regenerate to keep

control over her destiny whilst the Centuer

fights the hemmed in corner to regain

freedom. Either way she rises.

The King of Gods oversee’s her whilst

the King of War whispers in her ear and

the King of the Underworld takes her hand

and leads her into temptation. The Scorpius,

unafraid will walk away unscathed as the

Centaur chalk’s it up to exploration.

Let her breathe if you have been unfortunate

enough to cross her, or bow down and take

the angry words, for they will come as she

searches the deep waters of her captive emotions.

But beware the Centaur does not rise and lead

the way, the fire moves so quickly and those bows

can move so far.

She’ll flirt with you till passion bubbles motivated

by her desire to play. Remaining devoted

whilst the Centaur is mindful of her tongue.

Together they explore your mind. Between them

every dark corner of it.

Together they rarely leave without their chosen desire.

Scorpius will use her passion to manipulate your eyes

whilst the Archer sets up bow and the Centaur

captivates your mind.

Escape is futile, unless she changes her mind

which she is known to do.

Karen Hayward (copyright 2015)

Image shared via internet, could not find original owner or copyright…please correct me if you can!



Glitter bombs and fairy tales

wiggling worms and slimy snails.

Child like hands and mucky fingers

giggling fits that seem to linger.

Favorite songs and singing lungs

happy thoughts that feel like sun.

Daisy chains and wee wee flowers

Special undies and super powers.

Play doh makes and splattered cakes

a wave of my wand and everything’s baked.


Karen Hayward (Copyright 2015)

Morning frost kisses my skin.

Darkness, half a moon slowly descends the sky

as early morn prepares to kiss the stars goodnight.

Coldness, Jack has been spreading love sparingly

a far cry from my dreams of you touching me daringly.

Tired, my body yearns for touch,

my fingers ache for your skin

my spirit screams for passion

and desire deep within.

Karen Hayward (Copyright 2015).



Behind the mask.

Today I was watching and thinking and seeing

I caught a glimpse of the truth of your being.

Commitment of time I question the reason

i’d hardly call it criminal treason.

It’s what we hide that is truth behind names of a name

I knew to look, because we both think the same.

It invalidates the words, the thoughts and the feel

I guess in a way it breaks the deal.


Karen Hayward (copyright) 2015.



The web weaved.

The mind plays tricks upon us spinning a weaved

web of empty space filled by words and emptied by actions.

It creates a belief based on an inability to care

under the premise that everything is shared.

An intricate pattern thoughts crossing

an intersection of closeness

and those spaces disappear from sight.

But eyes are never closed and paths are always

created and there we find another web,

two perhaps and what was mine has now been shared.

A name created based on spoken words,

for you to me the silken path so delicately created

is destroyed.


Karen Hayward (copyright 2015)