The gentle essence of sleep leaves me now
I stretch away the cold snake of winter
that crept beneath the blankets open mouth
and curled around my slumberous splinter.

I listen for a short second to birds,
they sing of merriment and joyous days
a perfect orchestra requiring no words
existing through the melody of play.

I watch a lone drop of water diving
happy, into a pool of ecstasy
sporadic tip taps and gleeful sightings
I pause and drink in this reality

Rising with cold still upon my tired skin
I pull on a soft, worn, cashmere jumper
embracing now soft pinks and floral prints
I am the hushed tones of succubus amber

I try to recall the day I became this new essence of femininity
and decide it was always there in haze,
Hiding behind my broken fantasies.

I sit by the open window and see,
sleep has left me free from worries, concerns
and in the silence the serenity nurtures me
And I am at peace listening to the birds

Karen Hayward ©2019

Image via wordpress library

Pick up the pen
and write the poem,
It’s not rocket science,
It doesn’t have to be a meticulous scribe
Inscripted with archaic
lexicon, the imagery
doesn’t have to paint
a perfect theme,
the rhyme can be
awkward, screwed and
off whack. It doesn’t
have to be unique
or the same. It can
be raw and tough
and bleed from the page
It doesn’t have to
articulate your every
thought that speed
races through your
mind. It doesn’t
have to be as good
as his or her’s
and it doesn’t have
to be liked…
write the
God damn poem,
it isn’t
rocket science.

Karen Hayward ©2019

Patience patiently taps a toe

Whilst patience always has been my virtue
There are days when I cuss the universe.
Moments when I ache for his kisses,
times when I crave the taste of my name
slipping across his lips
like imploding thoughts all
begging for
fantasy to become reality
and reality to be
all of the now’s we have
and in those pending
moments of now
is the definitive truth
and that right there
Is the core of my hunger
and only he can sate this
need, only he can
quench my thirst and
whilst patience always has
been my virtue,
there are days…

Karen Hayward ©2019

Image and words

Sleep…

Sleep seems to evade me lately like the plague,
my dreams cloaked in darkness and vague.
But i’m still standing,
And landing,
On my own two feet,
And from here,
Deep in the depths of despair,
I can hear my beat,
Calling my name,
pushing me on,
Always the same,
Every path has a reason,
Keep going through the seasons,
Every fight,
Will eventually bring light.
Believe in yourself,
Believe you are right,
And
In the
Darkness
Of the
Night
Awake and alone,
Know you were dreaming
Of your future throne.

Karen Hayward ©201

The hidden vortex

Photo

A vortex that sits hidden in the shadows in that tiny pocket of time between my dawn and your high moon. Your world silenced by the darkness, engulfed in the night. Only lovers or thieves can be found in this twilight hour as my sun reaches her fingers into the sky, thieves scuttle home and lovers collapse into each others arms. This is the moment when time pauses. A vortex in the shadows where we should meet. Defeat as emptiness takes hold and you close your eyes beneath an illuminated sky, defeat as the suns rays sprinkle into my world. The emptiness of a black hole of time, where the grains continue to fall, slowly, each grain a lifetime of need.

Karen Hayward 2015 © Image and words