Melodious waltz

A tune so subtle,
melodious energy
igniting in each note,
Twirling a tango,
Willing a waltz
the clumsy stepping
of my whimsical
soul, bells
ringing to Pans beat.
A rhythm
of ancient telling
Lust rising,
love swelling.
And his soul knows my tune,
whistles a perfect song
Plays my body like a flute,
fingers teasing,
Lips caressing,
tongue defining…
And he is the drummer
My skin, his instrument
He beats in rapid strokes
A deep chorus of pleasure
Spilling across atoms..
And he is the saxophone
songs of old dancing
among raindrops
as the moon kisses
my skin…
And he is the song
the beat,
the rhythm
the silence
the rise the fall…
For he is the one
that knows
the ancient
composition
of my soul..
He is my
symphony
of love,
my piano music
Ebony and ivory
in perfect
unison.

Karen Hayward ©2018
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Kings and Queens and Devils Spawn

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I feel only pity. Not for you, for those touched by you. Those stained with your toxin breath and acid words. Those that hear the echoes of your banshee scream as dawn calls upon another day and they believe they converse with an angel.

I pity the God’s you pray to, the hyprocracy in your evening cries, the venom in your devil eyes. A descendant of lilith, fallen angels with blackened wings fanning the vile words falling from your spitting tongue.

The serpent coils through your soul, what embers of innocence once lay there now crushed, dispersed on trade winds to a lover and another and any poor fool consumed by your succubus melody and the broken strings of your violin.

But alas I will carry your lesson into tomorrow on the beating wings of spirits love forever at my side. My gain was your want, eternal without condition beyond the physical realm. Spiritual devotion rewarded now in universal bliss…

Your lessons taught me the value
Of true loves blessed kiss. Your game play was preparation, for me to become his. Your poison was the toxin in my climb
as I learned self worth and when my King
took stand to claim his Queen,
I knew I was worthy this time.

Karen Hayward ©2017 Image and words

To Purge

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Some people eat to purge
They devour platefuls of
Love, spoonfuls of hate
Bowls spilling with disgust.

Some, drink vodka, gin
Whiskey and bottled beer
Swigging back pain
Sipping on indifference.

For some, it is one more
run, sprinting back the tears
Curling the fears, stretching
the broken fragments clear.

I purge on the dark recesses
of my skull, pull away at
silver threads, devouring
memories made to break.

I lose myself in the silence
of melancholy let it swim
naked through my veins
Tearing me with each stroke.

I let each one fall, tasting the depth
of their essence, let it
ricochet through me in
forgotten undertones of being.

I purge myself through the
Lost memories of my ancient
voice, capturing them within
A moment, then release,
as my lungs breathe and my
eyes smart at the purging.

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image and words

Supine in a moments serenity

3D somehow becomes

2D and I am

transported through time

to when clouds

were shapes

and the sky

was an endless

playground.

Terra tugs at my core

caressing lost strands

of self

as my inner child

sings nursery rhymes

fit for a killer.

Death lays all around me.

Abandoned graves

aging trees

Adulthood on the

lost lips of kids as

they grasp at the

milk cartons

and for a moment

I see St Nicholas

flying high through

cornflower blue skies

I close my eyes

for a last moments

reprieve

“please wake me

from this dream”

but no one hears

I am four and

discovering

that God does

not exist…

… I lay now,

supine in a

moments serenity

reflecting my daily

wish to wake from

this dream

they call life…

Karen Hayward ©2018

A core deep flaw

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I fought all things taught
all lessons learned all battle
wounds earned. And yet,
here I am, the corner begging
my company, reflection caught
upon the forced crimson pause.
A reflective stance, a core
deep flaw. Strip bare the
necessities of life, remove
my destructive Armour and
I am weak, whole without value.
How will you love me if I calm
the fires that flame upon your
words? Oh! To discover I still
hold harbour to such fears.
Such scars beyond deep,
we learn, learned behaviour,
echo, mimic and resurrect the
the dark shadows of our existence.
We are a reflective stance
of inner needs, nourishment,
eternally perhaps feeding from
each other’s energy, an unstoppable
cycle rotating across our very own axis.

Karen Hayward ©2019 Image via wordpress library

Cinders of yesterday thoughts

My thoughts would likely
set ablaze the page,
Perhaps best I let them fester
In silent implosions
dot to dot conclusions
and solid doubt
of realities illusions.
Delusions
My thoughts would likely
tear holes through
constellations
rip apart solar systems
Redesign the universe
and yet, would
surely quench this
burning thirst
A cure for perhaps
mothers tongue, a curse.
My thoughts
My thoughts
My thoughts would surely
set ablaze the page
Crimson flow,
nature’s rage
Not wrong not right
Blinded by terrors sight
upon my tongue then
I shall bite,
whilst quietly waiting
for the emptiness
of night.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image and words

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