Time moves between the shadows

The universe doesn’t pass time in the moving of seconds,
Instead, the ascending and descending of life events.
First there is birth to the perfect parents.
Not perfectly good or perfectly rich,
hell they might not even be perfectly hitched.
But for purpose sake, the bond is purposefully stitched.
Or un-stitched in some cases.
At a soul level you’ll recognise their faces,
past lives leaves scars, freckles, tiny traces.
Childhood happens, you might be rich you might be poor,
the universe keeps ticking never keeping score,
look around at the beauty, she only wants, that you want more.
For some there is light, for some of us dark
and as the grains of sand slip, we all walk a path,
Living becomes a story that leaves another mark.
Till finally we learn there are lessons at hand,
Life is a map only our souls know the plan,
from the moment of birth when Terra began.
They’ll be tears, they’ll be hurt and boy they’ll be pain,
they’ll be days when we count seconds by the drops of grey rain,
and some of us sadly, will be driven insane.
But alas time must trickle through the portals neck,
as we eat, pray, play, work and slumber in bed,
Till finally we wake, then we are led.
For each soul that wanders for each mind that grows,
lessons are delivered knowledge is sown,
and time passes by in a constant flow.
Some of us lucky our lessons we learn,
twin flames found at the very first turn.
Some of us feel time, feel time, as each second burns,
time hesitates, stammers and screams,
we can’t figure out what the symbols mean,
we can’t make sense of the time that has been.
The universe doesn’t pass time in the beating of hands,
time is explored through our souls and their plans,
some paths we can’t and some paths we can.
Karen Hayward ©2016 (Image and words)

Photo

The hidden vortex

Photo

A vortex that sits hidden in the shadows in that tiny pocket of time between my dawn and your high moon. Your world silenced by the darkness, engulfed in the night. Only lovers or thieves can be found in this twilight hour as my sun reaches her fingers into the sky, thieves scuttle home and lovers collapse into each others arms. This is the moment when time pauses. A vortex in the shadows where we should meet. Defeat as emptiness takes hold and you close your eyes beneath an illuminated sky, defeat as the suns rays sprinkle into my world. The emptiness of a black hole of time, where the grains continue to fall, slowly, each grain a lifetime of need.

Karen Hayward 2015 © Image and words

A single bead of now all lined up in a row…





A split division of time traversing distance,
A minds inability to commute, conjures resistance,
But the soul craves truth, is insistent…

Now, is a concept of time rooting us to a moment,
the past as we breathe air into lungs deflating
before the present has a chance to conceive
Plausibly creating moment of movement, so we may believe.

But, I can map a Constellation of me to you, you to me,
Measure it in miles, seconds, oceans, hours, you see?
and then perceive such a chasm of space, physically.

Seven Russian dolls sitting on a shelf
A vortex of reality each within themselves
The past, the future, dimensions to delve.

Perception splits into uniformed understanding,
Group saving elicit pedigrees of knowledge
on post it notes without the sticky banding.

I perceive movement through the decaying of life,
rotting atoms of time losing this fight
But beauty is in the ancient, the essence of life.
And rebirth calls on spring whispers, always new light.

Stack the dolls in a black hole of despair
Merge linear perceptions, viewing to share,
and now becomes everything, yet, never quite there.
Nothing, all, void, everything… Space we now share.

Space we now share, kinetic vibrations
a pendulum swings dispersing sedation
Time, distance, miles and oceans have no relation,
In chiming sequence of tolling bells
A moments space, a moments realisation.

No distance, miles, seconds or otherwise,
Just two beneath the glittered skies
A moment captured, paused and stilled
together, now, nothing, everything and all,
Time conceptualised in beats of seconds
moving hands and changing dates…

…and there between the beats I found you, here but there… Here, together through the shared sense of now… There, seconds, miles, hours and oceans. Not here, not there… But somewhere.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image found via google search 

An oceans breath

There are oceans between us
to large to comprehend,
Your sun sets as mine begins to rise
and rises as it sets before my eyes.
Eternity is written in those warming
skies, as Shepard’s all decree their delight at this divinely sent sight.

I watch the ticking clock
For no man time will stop
With each tick I am lost
searching for you in every tock.

The ocean kisses my soul
Caresses my soles
in tender thoughts of a lovers role
collecting the last pieces of my
heart you stole,
Such a vast space, yet I feel so whole
and I wonder do you know.

And still time slips through the veil
of glass, grain upon memory they sail
through intimate atoms, no fail,
treading barefoot through a destined trail.

For a brief moment we share time
in a timeless loop of yours and mine.
Darkness shrouds us in our minds
as the last whispers of pink turn to shrine
and our souls traverse till they find
eyes of love from a soul of their kind
And for a brief moment we share time.

Karen Hayward © 2018

Image found via wordpress

When patience run amok

Got an advert you want to share?
A great opportunity, money off
something to sell, promotions to
promote? No time to waste, slap
it here..there…everywhere,
kerching!
Boom, boom, boom, boom
same post in different rooms
On to a winner!
Bad spelling? Who cares!
Spamming.. Brings in the money
I mean the pennies
I mean… Damn I’m banned.
“This time next year we’ll
be millionaires”
Why does no one care!
I’m only trying to share!
My crap… Every bloody where,
This is so exciting…
Boom, boom, boom, boom
All from deep in my squalor room,
The moneys gonna roll in
real fucking soon…
Boom, boom, catch
Boom, catch
Catch
Damn banned again
for being a twat
and your wallet still ain’t
growing fat…
So, go, away with ya
you vermin, you rats
You spam.. We catch.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image found via WordPress library

Actually,
what I’d like,
Is to see them all.
Perhaps one day,
with sweet tea,
scones, strawberry
conserve and clotted
cream. Bare feet,
plush velvet cushions
and hours to spare…
Actually, what I’d like
is to see the way your eyes
flash with excitement
as you tell me their
stories and the way
your voice skips up
an octave as you recall
the days. And of course
we’d need to sit real
close, so I could see,
I’m thinking, my cheek
against your chest,
my hair spilling over
you and your arm
wrapped around
my shoulder…

… Clothes would
be entirely optional.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Remote…when sleep whispers

Photo

A split division of time traversing distance,
A minds inability to commute, conjures resistance,
But the soul craves truth, is insistant…

Now, is a concept of time rooting us to a moment,
the past as we breathe air into lungs deflating
before the present has a chance to conceive
Plausibly creating moment of movement, so we may believe.

But, I can map a Constellation of me to you, you to me,
Measure it in miles, seconds, oceans, hours, you see?
and then perceive such a chasm of space, physically.

Seven Russian dolls sitting on a shelf
A vortex of reality each within themselves
The past, the future, dimensions to delve.

Perception splits into uniformed understanding,
Group saving elicit pedigrees of knowledge
on post it notes without the sticky banding.

I perceive movement through the decaying of life,
rotting atoms of time losing this fight
But beauty is in the ancient, the essence of life.
And rebirth calls on spring whispers, always new light.

Stack the dolls in a black hole of despair
Merge linear perceptions, viewing to share,
and now becomes everything, yet, never quite there.
Nothing, all, void, everything… Space we now share.

Space we now share, kinetic vibrations
a pendulum swings dispersing sedation
Time, distance, miles and oceans have no relation,
In chiming sequence of tolling bells
A moments space, a moments realisation.

No distance, miles, seconds or otherwise,
Just two beneath the glittered skies
A moment captured, paused and stilled
together, now, nothing, everything and all,
Time conceptualised in beats of seconds
moving hands and changing dates…

…and there between the beats I found you, here but there… Here, together through the shared sense of now… There, seconds, miles, hours and oceans. Not here, not there… But somewhere.

Karen Hayward ©2018