Cleaning makes me

Cleaning makes me hungry
Cleaning gives me clarity
Sweeping makes me hungry
as I sweep away old thoughts
Dusting makes me hungry
as I drift of to lavender fields
and jasmine scented evenings
Wiping makes me hungry
as I cleanse old stains, leaving
behind the scent of bleach
Mopping makes me hungry
as dirt clears, as thoughts
clear, as day dreams burst into
life,
Cleaning makes me hungry.
On clear sides with clean plates,
a clean knife and a clean floor,
I make a banana sandwich to
sate my hunger…
Cleaning leaves me exhausted
The sandwich goes uneaten.

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image and words

Photo

Silent falsities

Stained threads of purpose,
clambering the ladder,
stepping stones of succession,
A charlatans profession.
My personal preference is to
Be forgotten, I am no man’s
stepping stone, no check list
item on the road, falsities are
for another, so let’s not pretend,
bridges burned to the very end.
Bridges burned to the very end.

Karen Hayward ©2018
No claim to image

An ancient voice

A mere whisper
tongues gently
tasting
Lips pleading
Eyes awakening
Essence bleeding
into essence
as unity is formed
on the abandoned
screams of need
passion glistening
desire dancing
Love transcending
spirits kissing…

Spirits, lost in a
moments
abandoned need,
found among
the lost fragments
of essence
and seed…

An ancient tongue
calling me home.

Karen Hayward ©2017

No claim to image

It’s not rocket science sweety

Dear one I have no business talking too…

It’s not rocket science my sweet…

They decieve us…not man, although they too lie,
I’m talking about books, poems, stories
Love, does not shackle us to endless grey skies,
or cage us behind thick heavy trees.
Love is boundless, without an origin
and missing the tethered rip of an end
alone, is not a facet love will bring
and if it does, my sweet, he is no friend.
Alas, you are caught in despairs whirlwind,
tangled between pain and belief, entrapped
in a splintered labrynth with false King.
Awake now, your golden light has been sapped.
Wait no longer, gather strength and esteem
this is not love, just an endless bad dream.

Karen Hayward 2019

Image via Google search

Stop the endless search for purity

If only they would stop searching the endless paths of

hopeless fools that dominate the green green grass

of earth. If they could just stop looking to appease the

lost souls of the blind clones and their followers, they

could be free. They could strip away the insecurities

of an unstable society and walk the balance beam of chaos,

one foot in front of the other as their soul flies on ahead

to clear the way. If for a moment they could shake away

their prudish thoughts, let passion enter their minds, brush

away the dirt of a gentleman’s rule, they could know ecstasy.

The creeping wave that floods through the perfectly tuned body;

inhibitions left at the door, clothes strewn across the floor,

desire in the fingertips of fire, passion no longer

denied as the flames burn inside.

If only they could walk this path, leave behind the sins of

the clueless few who fear the strong. So much fear for the other side,

for those that walk bare skinned without sin beneath a veil

of devilish fun with tantalizing tales of lust, stories of trust

and moments in time of naked bodies never meant to

be mine. Alas, the path is their choosing all mottled in grey

always concerned for the place where they lay.

Karen Hayward ©2015

Happiness spilling between the hues

Happiness comes in many hues
Arboured within the heart.
Pensive need slaving for lust
Passion ignites upon the whispers of
Your voice.
Beyond miles,
Insistent pounding within, an echo,
Rhythm beating in
Time to yours.
Heart whispering secrets by
Day, by night telling me I
Am
Yours.
Can I kiss you, caress you
And devour the essence of your passion?
Reality is dispersed in my fantasies
Lost in love, in lust, in need I am
Open, my soul embracing the
Seconds we are together.
Love, lust, longing,
Only you my soul see’s
Veering to a halt
Evermore.
My love,
Eternal.

Karen Hayward ©2017
Image and words

Porcelain kisses

Photo

Let me fall into pools
of darkness kissed by golden
rays of the falling sun
and peer momentarily
into your soul.
Stroke your fingers
across the soft curve
of my neck, feel the
delicate essence of
my porcelain skin
beneath your wandering
Hands as you grasp me
within your hold.
Pull me into your torso
let me feel the beating of
your heart as your arms
press into me and your
lips search for the
tender kisses that fall
between carnal need,
between abandonment
between love and lust
and desirous want.
Hold me, tight,
within the realm
of always, whilst our
bodies merge, and
our lips search and
our tongues explore
the taste of one another’s
souls.

Karen Hayward ©2017 Image and words