Love in the soul of a butterfly.

Inspired by a photoprompt on g+ which can be found here


And the butterfly she flew

across oceans of blue,

searching the world for

love that was true.

And she became psyche

and psyche became her.

And they spoke of a love

that traveled the earth.

And cupid he searched

and he found his dear love,

and cupid was Eros

and Eros was Cupid.

And Cupid took Psyche

souls entwined

Their passion so great

it went without measure,

together at last

they gave birth to pleasure.


Karen Hayward ©2016




Perhaps love is cause of my insomnia.


Perhaps love is the cause
of my insatiable insomnia.
The eventuality of closeness, the essence of its core,
yearning in the dark hours.
The incessant song of life
drowning out my silence, heard deep within my
For how can I sleep when
such adventures lay
How can I lay in slumber when
an ancient mist claws at my skin?
Perhaps in the lonely solitude of darkness,
my soul calls out to love
and there between
thr veil of light and dark,
I hear your soul calling back.

Karen Hayward ©2016

Take the floor.


Take the floor. It is yours.

Dance beneath the heavens

with a love divine your future

is set, you my dear are flyin.

Take the floor.

Devote all that you are,

leave behind

whimsical thoughts of passion,

take the floor,

dance to the tune of love that

filters through your mind.

Take the floor, look back no more.

Take the floor,

look back no more.


Karen Hayward ©2016

What tears us down?

What tears us down?

Is it the world or our own infidelity towards ourselves?

What makes us feel anger when in reality another persons actions rarely has any direct impact on us?

What makes us feel fear when every day of our lives we face the ultimate fear of death?

Is the world really to blame for our indiscretions or are we?

If on Friday 13th of any given month I were to walk under a ladder whilst smashing a mirror because a black cat crossed my path, would I really wind up with years upon years of bad luck? Or would I just feel a little silly for carrying a mirror in my hand whilst out walking and so busy day dreaming that I tripped on a cat?

Can we really blame the world when things go wrong?

Is it the worlds fault that we have single people in it?

Is it really so bad to be whole without another half? Is love really the be all and end all of this adventure we lead until we return to the ground? Why do we allow heart ache, we cannot at any point control another persons emotions, but in what way does that make it our fault? Are we really doomed because we are so busy loving everyone that we forget to love ourselves?

What is the meaning of life and why are we here?

If love is the reason for our being, if the searching and finding of our soul mate is the only purpose of this journey, then should we not die on point of contact? Should we not see them across a crowded room, touch them, kiss them and then fall into them as our beating hearts stop. Forever. And if this is not the true purpose of our lives then why does the world stop turning for so many when their soul mate has a different path to theirs? Who is to blame for this indiscretion? The lover? The world? It is said that two souls are destined to find each other, so why do people continue to believe that their soul mate exists, but are living a different life?

If soulmates are real then so are the angels that watch them. Is the world to blame when you cannot trust that your angels will direct you correctly?

Who is to blame when I am pushed into a corner and my emotions run wild? The world that pushed me there? Or is it me. Am I the cause and effect of my own stampede of indiscretion.

If I am the owner of the love that I share, of the lust that I feel, of the happiness that I throw back into the world, then surely I too am the owner of my pessimistic views? Surely I too own my spiteful tongue and hate fueled fury?

Why do we spend so much time fearing what makes us whole? Does the world dictate that such feelings are invalid? That to feel these things some how makes you less of a human?

What tears us down? The world? Or is it us? Do we place unavoidable obstacles in our own way? Do we believe that life is magical and yet constantly strive to find a scientific explanation for our emotions?

What tears us down, the world? Or is it the indiscretions toward ourselves, our very own infidelity, that breaks us?


Karen Hayward (copyright) 2015.









Every Soul Seeks.

When darkness falls and the mist, rolls, in,

my thoughts become so clouded.

The dusk of days gone and past pull me

into a love crazed, haze.

Blinded by words not uttered,

love not told, in that moment of separation,

no return.

For life rolls on as the mist comes and goes.

It always will, you’ll never be,

more then a drifting thought of the

morning sun. I couldn’t ask,

I couldn’t take, I can only hope

I made the choice that’s right for you.

As darkness falls and the thoughts roll in

I close my eyes and travel the years

to the tender touch and arms wrapped tight

to a lioness kiss and blushing cheeks,

back to that moment,

that every soul seeks.

A moment in time.

It was not your honesty that flamed her heart,

nor your belief or even the love you had for her.

It was your deceit that opened

her eyes, it was your disbelief that gave fuel

to her soul and gave her the wings to fly. The emptiness

created by you gave her a void to fill,

the pain left by you, gave her wounds to stop

and be healed. If it were not for your deceit,

she would never have found herself. As for your love,

that was the only proof she needed, that fairy tales

can exist, even if only for a moment in time.

Fairy Tale Queens.

Fairy tale queens and petals of pink,

vivid illusions that create the brink.

A mind filled, with white clouded fluff

delusions of monsters and all that stuff.

The sun creeps the skies over the moon

and the day rests again all too soon.

Dreams of a life on the page of a book

hiding eagerly beneath a reading nook.

Stories of old from the lips of a chief

of a love that was taken by a barbarous thief.

There was blood filled screeches and violence galore

the audience begged to please tell them more.

Fairy tale dreams and petals of pink,

the creation of an unbreakable link.

The lost souls of the land

reaching out their hands,

in the fairy tale dreams

with their fairy tale, Queens.

I Want You to Hurt.

I want you to hurt, the same way that you hurt me.

I want your world to fall apart the same way mine did.

I want for you to question it all; the seconds, the moments,

those intimate words spoken and the soft tender kisses once felt.

I want you to know how that feels.

I want it all to turn a muted shade of grey. For the pain to be

so deep inside your soul that each new sun causes you agony

and each new moon brings you ever closer to the loneliness I felt.

I want you to explore the emptiness, like I did. I want you to

walk along those paths that no light reaches, to feel it against

your skin as it worms its way through you. As your eyes become

accustom to the shadows and you face the darkness. I want you

to become the dark nights, like I did. I want you to learn to drink

in the despair and let it intoxicate your life supply blackening

your heart to any future love, like it did mine.

Once there I do not want you

to wallow in self pity.

I do not want the dark soldiers

to devour your soul,

I simply want for you to see, like I did.

See what I saw.

I want you to understand like I did, understand the hurt, like I did,

the emptiness you left me with.

I don’t want you to be forever wondering

what was real,

what was not,

like I did.

I want you to know it is real, as I wish I could know

this for myself. I want you to let go of that past, like I did.

Leave it behind in that  dark room filled with questions and lacking in

happiness. Leave it behind and clear away that slate. To understand

is to clearly see, to see with trust to see with honesty, I want you

to understand the minutes, the days the years without you are a blur

of knowing, I want you to understand like I did.

What I want doesn’t matter and never has. I want it to matter.

I thought I did, I thought I didn’t then I did and then I didn’t.

I want you to know how that felt.

The uncertainty, those whispers that hid away the words of truth

I want you to see the damage they have done,

I want you to see the damage they can do,

I want you to understand why that path was not for me.

I want you to feel the importance of completion, like I did.

I want for you to understand, like I had to learn to.

I want you to hear the words not said and feel the kisses

not given. I want you to believe in what you cannot see and

cannot touch, like I did.

I want you to hurt, like I did. Then I can I know it was real.