The scented hues of serenity

… for moments blissful
lost in scented realms,
piano notes and blue,
blue skies of forever.

… On shores of golden
sand, speckled shells
and washed up glass.

… In wisping meadows
crickets sing, grasses
sway, butterfly wings
dance.

… In evergreens, dark,
lush, moist moss creeping
between shadows lost.

… In slumbers keep, soft
pillows, warm arms,
tender kisses on
pearlescent beams.

For moments blissful
Lost in scented realms
Seconds so lush, wishful,
Love given to oneself.

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image found on pinterest

Photo

The battleground of silence

If her words are to be cut from her tongue, if her silence is to be cut from her soul, she has only her ink. The solace of her page, the sombre flow of thoughts carved into yesterday’s canvas. The freedom of poetic expression…said here, said there, the effect is the same. The cause falls on blind eyes, a defensive soul guarding against… The only one he needs not. For those words silenced in reprimand wanted not to talk of command, demand or dictating, just love. A silence that wished not to hurt, offend or harm found an unwanted battle ground of misunderstanding and trust questioned on the balance beam of expectations, emotions, a kaleidoscopic rainbow of scars
itching to rip open, and she is not trusted to itch them, she is not trusted to express the way they scratch, they bleed, perhaps such a thing is for children, for the weak..for they are the adults. Then she stands in all her glory for she holds no shame in her weakness. Her silence sought only his love, the tender touch of his words the reassuring tone of primal need on carnals vice. His defence, guarded, angered.. the unnescasary ripples of his own scars, as he scratched them into life. For an unexpressed thought will ricochet through existence slowly crumbling foundations. A recipe for disaster, one part love, one part lust, one part the closed eyes of a pretence, a locked vault of despair, a curse she never once wished upon him, never had she bound his tongue never had she silenced his silence. She holds all trust in their love, all belief in their truths. In the silence of no words said, she ponders the irony that of all the things he did not trust, it was her need to express without consequences to him, her need to understand the pain that drives, her need to have the freedom to be vulnerable, safe in the knowledge he’d catch her…

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image and words

Photo

The whispered call of Dawns song…

Shh, I listen to the empty echo of 6am,
tiredness still in my eyes,
A vast sky whispering promises of light
Lonely cars splitting atoms dividing night.
I look along my road, dead lights, no life
as people sleep dream and wish for more time.
Grim has been standing guard over old man’s wife,
But he doesn’t take her, not here tonight.
Still age creeps in, always arriving at first light
Red and blue glows illuminating the site.
My sky is starless the moon is bidding goodnight,
Too late for more sleep, tiredness settles in my waking eyes.
Shhh, I sit and watch the morning skies.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words 

Silence engulfs me…

Selene, do you catch the broken
fragments of my thoughts,
reminiscent echoes
of ancient days frozen
in the paths of time.
My soul has aged in
days gone past
twilight has become
my refuge.
The ungodly hour of devils fun
is scarred upon my wings
in mottled greys
of solitude.
Shhh, do you hear
the way my heart beats?
A broken rhythm
perhaps, or maybe just a forgotten
hum…

Karen Hayward ©2017 

Image found via WordPress library 

Muted hues of another day…

For a brief moment my smile fell as I pondered worth,
and instantly I saw this bird.
Between dying leaves in muted greens
Purest white and peach of cream.
Colours so rich and vivid
Symbolic of a life well hidden.

And I am five, colouring, sat alone
when I discover navy blue and peach spell home,
A moment of surreal calm among my storm
How is it that a colour makes me feel so warm.
Like then, but now I know take heed
symbolism is the ageless seed.

My energy divinely sent runs low in the devils grasp,
I wane beneath this crushing blast..
Won’t you walk with me in pastures old?
Where silence whispers in a tongue of gold?
Would you see and know and understand?
As I pull of shoes to feel the land.

I pause beneath a moon lit sky of navy blue
hear the forest call and think of you.
I need pillows filled with feathers covered
In pink,
Purple, blue and green a place to talk but not to think.
To stop let go and feel my soul
In natures hand so I feel whole.

Would you sit with me among the trees?
As the scent of earth entwines with me,
Watch through broken branches a sky of stars,
And ponder numbers, distance and life so far.
Would you sit with me and hear the earth
and love me hard till I see my worth?

Karen Hayward ©2017

Splitting the atoms of thyme

Time spent swimming in thyme
blue oceans of salted seas
flickering flames of warmth
and silence, just soft silence.
Like an eruption of chaos
volcanic lava spilling,
You rise, she rises
Noise erupts
Tiny atoms split
Split again
Split again
and split again
my deamon shatters among
this dark trilogy
of thought as thyme
fades, as time disperses
to become empty thoughts
in worthless verses.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image found on wordpress library