When Helios Paints

I wonder will I ever paint the page
the way Helios paints the skies,
His brush stroke smoothing the sharp
edge of night, erasing the darkness,
Lush blades of grass crying dew drop tears
as the horizon sets ablaze in vivid screams
of orange spilling between the
dank scent of nature waking
tiny birds with tickling rays
caressing Gaia into life
and for a brief moment there
is only her, only nature,
only beauty and my soul breathes…

..and I wonder will I ever
paint my page in the same way Helios paints the dawn.
Karen Hayward © 2018

Image copyright Lothar M Kirsch

Embrace the last of your sleep that lingers

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As your alarm rings,
I would reach out
my hand to your skin,
grasp at your fingers,
embrace the last of
your sleep that lingers.
I would swallow down
my souls tug and use a
smile to hide my frown.
My lips would eagerly
devour the warmth of your
essence, kissing, greedily
the canvas of your form.
I’d curse the shortness of night
and the coming of morn.
I’d search the depth of your eyes
for a moment’s need sustained,
love spilling as the endless skies
passion radiating, desire burning
alarm ringing, bodies entwining,
souls yearning, I’d kiss you,
good morning.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017
Image and words

A whisper on golden rays.

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Yonder ethereal skies your essence

sweeps across my soul embracing

my darkest shadows with tender

kisses of devotion. And I am defenseless,

the ancient echo of love sung by the morning

bird tingles across frozen drops of dew.

Spiraled imprint of frost delicately

painted across whimsical dreams thawing

at the warmth of your tongue,

the caress of your lips,

the embrace of your love that

traverses

countless seconds dispersing the atoms

of our existence.

Breaking times barrier,

colliding with celestial storms

reaching now from beyond the realm,

a single flame we burn in the echos

of our infinite universe an eternal

love the expansion of our souls united in

a chaotic flurry of brilliance.

Karen Hayward * ©2017

Image and words.

When good mornings fade into new horizons.

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One day our good mornings shall

become a distant moment of the past.

Birds will still sing a symphony

of life to the cloudless sky and

the sun will ascend anew into

emerald blues. The outside world will continue

without us, thoughts crossing oceans,

intent skimming moon beams

and desire burning on the edge of suns

descent.  Such a gulf will silently

implode and explode as a vortex

of everything becomes a meaningless

whisper void now of need….And we will

search for those all knowing eyes as a

storm roars through our veins, and we

will search among the rapid beating

of our hearts…But we’ll not look so far.

Tender lips, tongue tips between

coffee sips and ….dancing hips, we’ll bid

good morning with a loving kiss, in loves

finest tongue.  Kissing good morning

beneath a single ascending sun.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image Karen Hayward  ©2017