It never stops spinning

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When my day begins and sleep still holds me captive,
When the days are shorter than my lists,
When skies hold a meloncholic promise of grey,
When sun shines but never reaches,
When sun burns but never warms
When sun hides from summer storms
When sun smiles lonesome between silver tears
When sun smiles at beach days in the hazy rain,
When sun smiles in sarcasm

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image and words

The matrix of paper cut souls

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I wonder if we listen carefully enough

will we hear the distant whir of machinery.

A computerised filing cabinet,

blossoming leaves stained with the ink

of fallen tears.

A matrix of every decision I have made,

every indecision,

every heart break shared in solitude upon that bench.

What pain, fear, self esteem and lack of belief have

those frozen petals collected over the years.

And yet I never came back and told you.

I never told you that I passed those exams

you watched me study for, I never told you

I failed my history A level, I never told you

I failed my Maths…again.

I never came back to say I had sorted it out,

it was fixed, things were better,

I was hurting less. I wonder if these

fallen leaves are the half tales I recall.

If for a moment the thin veil

between worlds were to separate,

would I find here drawn against the

crumbling walls of this ancient castle,

the blueprint of my resistance

paths walked, destinies lost,

fates forgotten.

And who guards my precious data?

For I feel the ancient call tug upon my

soul as I wander close by, a core need

whispering on winters breeze carried

upon frozen dust particles,

calling me home.

But who is it that calls unto my soul?

Karen Hayward ©2016

Image found on WordPress library

Two Mirrored Self’s.

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Two Mirrored Self’s

© 2017 Harold Bo Clapsaddle,a hardball clod posed

©2017 Karen Hayward, Harked An Wary

Be of God’s love to be lashed inside

to confide well as Red does scarlet

which testifies like Jekyll and Hyde

cut of gut and heart bled ‘pon carpet.

See here? Torn edges of sanity

Neither, spirit nor soul, piece fits space

Ego then all asylum of self, cast reality

shattered drear, for lost is yonder trace.

The riddle, blood of Eve, essence

of Lilith, need of grieve, ripped Adam

spawn given fall, Sam’s sinful silence

a metamorphic war in every atom.



Heartfelt earthly befell from On-High

God tailors, to sew bare threaded bolder

of carnal braided sides, of yet I cannot deny.

of best carpenter, of whom I’m a beholder.

Blinded blood lust screams

A decaying scent of home

and whispers soft from dreams

In Celestial grace given of throne.

Above is brightest thereof

Yet crashing earthen axle

under chilly dark lost love

as mankind eats the apple.

Sin, lies, in lustrous deceit, it breeds

In it’s hot empty void of breath

is cold serpent promise and devil seeds

fed two souls, held to bereft.

Two together, two times

two corresponding equal

givin’ fourth, Great blue chimes

as clock towers eternal sequel.

Kinetic cat calls of sin swings

pendulum of doom upon love

as devil tips, and God sings,

dark shadows prey seeks above.

The confidence of purity, broke

two souls searching for home

the devil not in kindness, awoke

together they are eternally alone.

See of twain, of brain with binary eyes vain

bilaterally spoke is as Jekyll and Hyde reside

which butler shells orange crush so insane

as each alone does confide, to ere cockeyed.

From denial comes excuses

to straight-jacket cold heart

in abyss, crazy flossed abuses

it accuses so hot, that it infuses apart.

 

A rage of dark, demonic voice

suffocating, all but a fallen tear

pleasant death no longer a choice

as love’s beauty, succumbs to fear.

Clock-towered eternal hence

labors our wing of eagle dare

whence comest our lost sense

to air prayer onto God of affair.

Shall the trees be envious

of what green groves enjoy

that fell gold feathered devious

forthwith flown solitary employ.

Will not all things be envious?

Lost, found essence of dark

among visions given, rebellious

souls playing their part.

Lights dimmed, masks fell

monster, angel, sinner, saint, lover

fragmented mind, departing calls

the inner child, again does suffer.

 

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A pause in the eternal beating of time.

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If I wielded sand grains,
in a broken hour glass,
tore kinetic energy
from the fabric of time,
Ripped a hole in the linear vortex,
for a moment I’d make you mine.

Beneath star filled skies and a distant moon,
damp air clinging to my skin,
owls hooting a chorus of ancient wisdom,
the silent echo of twilight.
A lover’s blanket of need
wrapped about my body’s bloom.

Each breath filling my lungs
with your essence
I’d drink in the dark pools of your eyes,
trace the heart of your lips with my mouth
searching for your taste
beneath celestial skies.

Our horizon lost in endless fog
muted reality,
my body falling into yours,
the melding of our existence,
the paused shadow hovering
above life’s forgotten arrow,
sundial engulfed in past darkness
illuminated by lunar crystalline
beads of ever beating life.

I would hold those grains of
sand in my hands,
count the blessings of their moments,
ensnare them,
bind them to my fantasy,
mold them to my reality,
forget them in the black
hole of desire.

Our lips devouring the soul,
our tongues tracing a faded
constellation of our love
searching for home and finding
each other,
between the paused beats of
times ticking
hands traversing the infinite
skies of dreams.

Karen Hayward (c)2017
Image and words

Wandering the echos of my path

Mágico ! Absoluto !!! Prova de nossa insignificância diante do poder, leveza e força do Universo !!!! RCRº

I watch in perfect silence
Shadows, shadowing
my shadows you do not
see, I am a bird hidden
in a tree, I watch, intently
as the world passes
haphazardly.
Intrigue when you look
at me, who I might be,
potential, you wonder
if I see, perhaps I will
tell my tale, my story.
I’ll weave poetically
Entwine majestically
Life’s realities, aghast that
this is no fantasy.
But where would I start
for you are right,
I’m still to believe that
this is my path.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017
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A weaved web of lust

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My need
entwined within
your vines.
Locked in a
mortal sin,
thoughts
abandoned for
last rays of desire
smacking across
my skin.
I think of
nothing else.
These are the
words pleading
for the ink of my pen,
lost and again
found in your
intent.
A weaved web of lust
I am ensnared.
Devour me.
Cast about me silk ropes.
Envisage me
powerless
yet powerful
within your grasp.
A slave to our primal pawing.
A slave to our ancient calling.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017
Words and image