24.05.07 21:50
Every hour missed
Every minute skipped
Every dinner shared
Every drink, drank
Every moment gone
Every cartoon watched…
… A hundred times over,
Every tear caught
Every wiped nose
Every cleaned bum
Every ‘smell check’
Every teacher taught
Every twilight seen
Every dawn kissed
Every doctors visit
Every train ride
Every look of disdain
Every phonecall
Every kiss, gentle and soft,
Every held hand
Every squeezed finger
Every single piece of mess
Every missed bin
Every bomb hit room
Every made bed, remade
Every stubbed toe
Every piece of Lego
Every doll shoe
Every friend lost…
… Every friend gained
Every lesson learned
Every book read
Every song heard
Every sudocream moment
Every second spent
Every cry, stamped feet
and screams…

24.05.18 21:50
… is worth it.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Writing prompt, chaos.

Writing prompt chaos


This write doubles up slightly with the prompt from a few days back ‘sacrifice’…it started out as the sacrifice prompt, but clearly also fit very well with chaos. The inspiration was that often as a writer the pieces that come easiest are on the back of a sacrifice, which got me thinking what would I lose if I switched off this aspect of my personality, what sacrifices would I be making to become a non writer.

There’s a flip switch inside my head, I can turn it on or turn it off. I can survive either way. I can decide any time that I want. All I have to do is flip, that, switch. I can choose sleep I can choose to while away my hours glued to the television screen as my brain cells become numb to the outside world. I can choose to not see. I can close down the part of my mind that see’s a technicolor strobe of enlightening hues in the final glimpse of a setting sun, I don’t have to see this. I can choose to not feel, a thing. I can wrap myself in metaphorical bubble wrap and block out the sensations of the world against my skin. I can stop tasting the world on the tip of my tongue as it tantalizes my taste buds, I can do bland, I like bland. I can stop listening, I don’t have to internalize the words, the thoughts, I can revert them back to a black font on a white background, they can once again be nothing. I can create a dam inside my mind and fill it with the excessively flowing vocabulary. They can spend their remaining days swimming in the lake of forgotten wishes and unknown thoughts. They’ll be safe there. I can drag along my old pink blankie and peach frilled pillow, close the iron gate and just flip that switch.I don’t have to live outside the cage, my wings are tired from the constant fluttering to reach the opening and my feet hurt from the constant tugging me back. I don’t need to fly, the sky is so very brightly coloured and the sun so very warm I am sure I would only dawdle through the skies if I could. I don’t have to be this way. I can self implode the chaos that swims through my veins and creates sparkles of love in every step I take, I can switch it back, revert it alongside the font, I can drain the saturation, become monochrome I can become the melancholy of rainy afternoons as heavens tears slide down glass window panes. I don’t have to be this way, I can flip that switch. I can embrace the multi layer grading of grey on grey whilst my soul shrivels resting in the eternal solitude of an iron cage. I can turn off the world, see nothing, feel nothing, be nothing. Write nothing. I just have to flip that switch.


Karen Hayward ©2016 (Image and words)

Sacrifice. Word prompt.

Today’s word prompt is sacrifice…you can go here to find many, many more prompts.

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This word prompt has been bugging me all day. I have a thousand words I could write but each and every letter I place on the page is like handing you a raw slice of my soul. So I thought long and hard about what it is I want to say and this poem was created.



Some people can,

and these will

always give.

Some can’t,

and they will

always take.

May the angels always walk

with those

who can.

Karen Hayward ©2016

A freewriting, free mind.

Today, whilst laying in a glorious bath I decided to simply stop, and write, not a poem that I am scribbling down as I scrub the kitchen floor, or even a short story that has been developing in my mind for months. Nope. Today I just want to write about the things that are wandering around in my mind.
It’s not often that I get the time to just stop, and it’s a sacrifice of my time that I will need to pay back at some point throughout the day. But for now, I just want to watch as my words flow onto the page, I will deal with the sacrifice later. It always amazes me how little time I have, and I rarely stop to think about it. I am a housewife, an unpaid slave to domestic chores. My day starts around stupid o’clock, if I am lucky I get a few minutes to enjoy the peace or watch the sun rise above the trees in our garden before I become mum, although playing mum is my favourite role within this shell that I live in. I spend the rest of my day holding together the home, single handedly. Yesterday alone, I played a million roles, dry cleaner, chef, builder, painter, gardener,butler, maid, these are just some of them. Between making everyone else’s lives tick along with an edge of perfection, I sat and scribbled words onto paper, escaped into another world where I was alone.
I dreamt last night, sporadically and with fierce strength, of death, hatred and betrayal. All such horrible emotions that I would normally refuse to allow my mind to settle on. I woke, alone and aware of my weaknesses. Yet at the same time, I was so aware that even then when my mind was completely relaxed when my sub concious was screaming at me, I controlled it all. I’ve controlled my emotions and thoughts for as long as I can even remember, a defence mechanism that stops me from feeling. Anything, sometime’s. But other times it allows me to feel everything with out weakness, it allows me to see the entire picture clearly. I can see the loop holes, the faults and all the rusty words, I can make choices based on truth.Then I can accept them, accept it…the picture as it’s meant to be. But so much control takes energy. And perhaps it is because we can’t go two seconds in this house without singing ‘Let it go.’ or perhaps I am simply curious, but a small part of me wonders, what letting go truly feels like. A small bit, hidden at the very back of my mind, wonders if I will ever, look at the smaller picture, rather than the bigger. That’s not to say that I haven’t or don’t, because I do, I can separate everything. But what happens if one day my mind takes over, and I can no longer make the separations. Feelings may scare me, but it’s my stubborn ability to never run from them, and a promise I made myself many years ago, to never hide from them, and to tell them, to tell everyone how I feel, in complete honesty that scares me more.
When I discovered a couple of years ago, that I had a world of words inside my head that could en-capture a tiny piece of my soul each time I wrote them down, I felt relief, now as I write each word, each thought, I feel strength. Single strands of thoughts that spill across the page…it’s just another way to control what I feel, in control I find strength. But in reality it is just weakness, a weakness that mirrors the physical weakness that I feel. And I do feel so very physically weak and incapable. But, I am outside my bubble, no longer looking down, perhaps I will retreat, the flames are hot, hotter than I thought, and thorns sharp.
So as I write i’m listening to music, we all have those songs that we go back to don’t we? The ones that get us through the dark nights, that remind us to stay strong even when we cannot see the light. I’m listening to Greenday, Boulevard of broken dreams. I sometimes think I like walking alone, i’m so entirely stubborn that I refuse to accept help, I will stand alone, as I always do.
Anyway as always the clock doesn’t stop ticking and I must endeavour to make up for my sacrifice of time. Perhaps i’ll scribble some words as I load the washing machine, and clean the dishes and cups that I have not used.

Blossom666 x