Gaia cries stolen tears

Gaia screams from within her core
cries ebbing upon earthly shores,
For the unbloomed flowers
and trees that don’t tower
For the stagnant tides
suffocating in yesterdays High.
For lost souls, dying spirits
and empty chests where a heart should sit.
Gaia whimpers, sobbing free
Her pulse felt in waving leaves
Those same waving leaves felt her pulse
an echoed cry, knowing now,
the end is nigh, the prophecy was not false
Gaia cries for all that feel
death is ours, death is real.

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image and words

i’m a muddle…


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

Iridescent hues…

are not so unlike
the iridescent hues
of colour that freckle
out across the canvas.
Perception being
both ally and enemy
as their colours change
like the chameleon,
a different light,
a different face
A single mask
painted in
iridescent tones
of life.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image and words

A moments reprieve as you sleep.


At dawns awakening
the world screeched
upon the etched carvings
of a spiteful tongue,
hates essence
suffocating my light.
Drowning in yester-
years ocean of
delinquent blood.
The hours owned
by the devil, wiped
clean by the angels
beating wings.
The merry go round
of existence. Dawn
becomes day, day
becomes noon,
noon leaves too soon.
After drowning in
evening’s promise,
night begs for

Tired eyes and stinging
mind, I walk the halls
to you, no calls for mum,
no echo of media.
I pause about your feet,
and take in life’s splendour.
A gift . . . the soft hum
of sleep already arrived,
the whisper of a moment’s
promise. I pause now with
freedoms time upon my hands,
and stare into the heart
of twilight skies. your
gentle sleep, a melody so

Karen Hayward (c) 2017
Image and words

In humble blessings. . .

"Ripples"-Josephine Wall. the treasure of children cannot be more true <3

Do you know?
Those precious moments
in your presence are honey
nectar to my soul.
Do you know?
The depth of truth i
can speak in your space,
the tears that fall,
the weakness shared,
the strength celebrated.
Do you know?
Why of course you do.
We share a fight.
You know the silent
echo of days with
out another’s voice.
You know the
sleepless nights.
The forlorn faces
the scorn of tone.
You know.
You know the value
of precious seconds.
Expressions saved
for chicken sandwiches,
doughnuts and coffee.
And more coffee.
Some times cola,
whatever our hearts
desire in that moment
we are me and you,
not mum and mum,
not with needs family,
not ‘oh them again’
not silent whispers of
pity or the markings
of shame.
You call me
your mermaid with
eyes from the oceans
depth. . .I pause
In humble blessings,
for I lunch with
an earth bound Angel.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017
Image found on Pinterest