Intrinsic working of an introvert soul

Have you ever watched the intrinsic
workings of an introverts soul?
We hide deep within the shadows
listening as shoes are worn tread bare.
We scuttle through raindrops
feeling the celestial embrace upon our skin.
We roar into empty skies at twilight
with the moon caressing silent thoughts.
But if you look real close,
if you pay attention to our inaudible beat,
you can see us skipping across powder puff clouds
of white searching in emerald skies of blue,
dancing to natures frequency,
singing to the birds symphony.
Have you ever seen the intrinsic
workings of an introverts soul?

Karen Hayward*©2017

No claim to image 

Graphite girl…

She was graphite, rough and raw.
She’d erase rough lines of guidance,
use the indents as a reminder of where not to walk,
how not to cry,
when not to break.
She’ll sit up into the wee twilight
Hours curving letters across
nipples pert bud,
gently caressing sensuality,
as the sharpened pencil defines
contours of need,
black lines of repression smeared by charcoal nips and probing tips.
Blurred definitions
tainted revelations
deceitful realisations
Graphite creations… how she pondered
now the way we draw our lines
in pencil, temporary markings
leaving a gentle trail
of destruction across
naked bodies beneath Lunar glows
Wild oats, taken, made and sown
Pick ups and throws…
The allure of graphite, need
erased, redrawn… Redrawn.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words

Echo of my wandering spirit…

Drowning in kaleidoscopic hues of colour,                                                  Plunging through suffocating screams of realism
Colour me in paint strokes of crimson blush
and the licked flick of a dandelions wish
kicked to the curb of impressionism
May Cezanne paint the stills of my soul
and Monet the echos of my wandering spirit
So I may inject their portrayal in arsenic
lining the canvas with mercury
till the Mad Hatter stops for tea
and the White Rabbit runs out of time…
But for the storms that rage
rains that cleanse,
washing toxicity from the chaos
so I may spend my days
in monochrome exile.

Karen Hayward ©2018


No claim to image – Cliff Walk at Pourville, 1882 — Claude Monet

Toes skipping across marble floors…

I suffocate in the silent notes
of a forgotten orchestra
as it drowns me in its melodious
song, the ancient whistle of
Pan and his nymphs dancing
to an unheard tune as I lose
Sight of skies of blue.
Dressed in topaz silk skimming
bare knees, purple ribbons
toes skipping on marble floors,
I hear the devil call as he lands
upon my shore…
All air is sucked from my lungs
Life drained from my veins
Tears milked from the shadows
of my heart as the walls tumble,
As the ceilings crumble,
As the chandelier shatters…

… fragmented diamonds,
sparkle in the darkest hours,
Light in life’s void, beauty in
It’s shadows…

I could drown in the
monochrome whispers of
fantasy, lost, suffocating
in my reality…

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image found via google search 

A proposal of thought…


… to know my worth exceeds the grave and cradle, that each breath holds meaning and each second depth, yet,
When I ponder of my existence I feel more alone than ever.

I do not wait for the apocolypse; neither enlightenment nor end days for both it seems to me pander to the reaper…
… And I find no sense in surviving the darkness in wait for God’s mighty hand of justice, for what point lays in waking, breathing or ultimately kindness.

… I do not believe my woes to be the karmic debt of my Father or his before, have you ever met these men? To spend a moment in their presence is to know the strength of my conviction.

I tear holes in the ideology that we are born to die, that greatness is achieved on death, I ponder how many false martyrs are formed this way.

The same sun that will warm my soul will also burn my skin, and the same snow that ignites my spirit will freeze my heart, yet still I can be found dancing beneath them and when eventually I die, I will tell great stories of the way Gaia touched my soul, the way stars ignited my heart, the way darkness gave me light and light gave me darkness.

… And when I am before my Diety,
when I am asked,
am I happy to be home,
I will say yes..

“But to have lived, is the greatest adventure of my existence.”

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image found via wordpress library 

I am the facets of torment that whisper my name

between the beats of darkness, the vessel discarded,

the scared remnants of yesteryear, the echoed promise

of endless tomorrow’s nullified in guiltless sorrows

As another dawn passes into the oblivion of life …

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image and words