See what they see…

He stroked tangles into her once luscious mane,
and peppered it in the muted hues of time.
He smoothed the years across her brow
and etched his hate
within her blunt laughter lines.
He left a thesis of his dysfunction written between the grains of her invalid groin
and ringed the spoils of her scars in red ink.
He left her skin bare of kisses, of love,
of exploration or pleasure
he tamed the primal beast
he groomed her into silence
then gave her a mirror
and said…

See? Then grinned menacingly.

He stroked tangles into her once luscious mane…

Karen Hayward © 2019

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Let’s elope…

Baby, please, let’s be reckless for the night,
We’ll elope in darkness
Just me and you,
hang our entire futures intentions
upon those first kisses,
carve our initials
into all of our promised tomorrow’s.

Let’s be reckless for the night,
run away
as ancient forgotten lovers once did
we’ll walk beneath the moon’s
pearlescent light
moist sea mist clinging to our naked skin
and soothe the deep ache of our ageing souls,
we’ll sip on red wine from crystal glasses,
and create a melodious symphony
within the orchestra of our existence.

Let’s be reckless for the night and steal love,
borrow tokens of time to be spent now,
and paid in kisses of relentless need
that rises at the sound of each others voice,
let’s drown ourselves in a moments passion
creating memories from fantasies…

Let’s be reckless…

Karen Hayward ©2019

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To fly is to believe.

She had to believe,
to fly.
And to fly she had
to fall,
And to fall she had
to trust
And to trust she had
to believe
she had the wings
of a bird…

Karen Hayward © 2019

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Would you fry the eggs?
Would you kiss me soft,
and hard when required?
Would you feed me books,
would you allow me
stupidity, verbally,
… let’s call it daftness,
so I can learn?
Would you pull a blanket
over my shoulders as
I sleep?
Would you make my
favourite dinner when
I am sad, when I am happy,
when I am grateful, when
I am needful?
Would you leave me
be to watch old movies,
The Wizard of Oz
and contemporary
remakes,
would you let me talk?
Would you let me keep
my socks on?
No? Would you promise
to keep me warm?
Would you be the man?
The protector? For I am
tired of that role,
Would you let me be the
lady, meek and mild,
soft and gentle,
Would you let me be
the nurturer?
Would you stand at
my side when I am
the lion, fierce and
protective, would you
stay at my side
proudly then?
Would you let me
love you?
In all my abandoned
states of intensity,
passion and raw
quirkiness…
Would you let me love you?

Karen Hayward ©2018
Image and words

Horizons calling…

And all of my
yesterday’s made
my today,
horizon smeared
in the devils mist,
and still the sun
burns through
and verge edges
are promised,
and falling
is a must
I’m sure now
Oblivion can’t
be that deep
and rocks are
never as sharp
as we expect
and beyond that
veil, I can
finally derobe
this battered
armour
and let the sun
warm my skin…

Karen Hayward © 2018
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It’s not that I think our souls will transverse
the very beats of times tick tocking clock
Or the stark darkness of our universe,
I don’t think love can make time pause or stop
It’s not the bond that binds, with unseen thread,
Or the way each one leads and each is led.
It’s not a phantom, ancient belief
synchronicity so tidy and neat
It’s not even a hopeful, dreamed thought
that in his delicate net, I’ll be caught…

It’s as physical as can be
this deep,
vivid, mind expanding, crazy need
to curl my naked form within his space
safe within our handmade nest of white lace
It’s the delicate essence of true trust
embracing love, friendship and delicious lust
Perhaps it’s the way he lets me fly free
unclipped wings, voice dancing across lush trees
returning to the nest at each ones call
I think perhaps that’s the cause of loves fall
when Alice slipped down that loving hole
and now became my only life goal.

Karen Hayward ©2019

Image and words

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

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