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 

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

The silent mist calls me home…

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I have a deep yearning
within me
for solitude
silence,
for the
swaying grass,
and whistling leaves
for rolling hills
endless skies of blue
and the rising
giggle of the days
sun spilling across
lush green grass
just beyond
the railroad
and her one
a week station
that sits patiently
without sound,
yearning for the
hustle and buzzle of life.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image found on Pinterest

I’m feeling kinda okay

Here inside my box. 

I’ll open a window, a door,

But i hide,

Like the sly fox. 

I linger in shadows watching 

The world, listen with 

A poets beat,

I don’t know the meaning 

Of defeat. 

But i do like the silence,

The empty echo

And the fragrant scent 

Of honesty.

So i linger in my box,

Peer from the door,

Reach from the window so 

The breeze can Dance

Through my hair.  

And the sun whispers,

Come on out your shell my dear.

The moon filled with excitement

Giggles and chortles….

‘Its a dare.’

And I’m left mumbling, 

That’s not fair! 
Karen Hayward*©2017

Tears to the twilight moon.

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*from draftbox

Night falls,

rains drown out

hollow screams of death.

I watch the moon from afar.

A slither of light between

dark storming clouds

she whispers my name.

I dance upon her rays.

Darkness creeps about

my soul, caressing

hidden contours of my

porcelain skin.

I tell the moon my secrets.

She listens,

tentatively

never leaves my sight.

She listens to my cries

at all times of the night.

Karen Hayward ©2016

Purgatory

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I don’t want to spend an eternity in purgatory.

I don’t want to look back with my dying breath

and wonder was I ever loved beyond the flesh.

Satan is an iconic creation of freewill, God

iconic of rules, I can abide neither. My conscience

whispers, my intuition screams, my soul ever the

playful creature explores and my spirit rots. I am

too dark for the light, too light for the dark, neither

world will take me. My heart has a weakness, my soul

has a darkness and I am lost in a devils world. The

empty void of existence a heavy burden in which

to carry, the night calls my name in shame and

the day whispers the secret stench of testing times

that I fail, again and again. The tight rope has become a thin

wire stretched out as far as the eye can see no sun reaches it,

no moon touches it, it is purgatory. I am in purgatory for

my sins.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016