Devils Love

Sometimes, I sit and wonder.
Is it my soul you plan to plunder?
What then are you waiting for?
Do you really think me the devils whore?

Sometimes you sit and wonder
can you really her soul plunder?
What is she waiting for, you think
'My sweet, innocent devils whore'.

Sometimes, they sit and wonder
Late at night when the worlds in slumber.
Why is fate so truly cruel?
Is this the only way must we let the devil rule?

Sometimes, the devil sits and plunder’s,
all the thoughts of love and wonders.
He shares with I and you the love
to help us through each day that’s tough.

One day we’ll sit and wonder
for the lost days that life did plunder.
And we’ll be grateful to the devil,
that in our true love he did revel.

Karen Hayward ©2012 - Edited 2020 Image and Words. 

Reflective voices

I sat on the stony shore as the soft ebbing tide
drifted further away. The suns rays reflecting,
of the seas surface, like gold dust,
dropping from the sky. I close my eyes and,
let the winter sun warm me.
 
I can feel your kisses on my shoulder,
they're soft and warm...
 
My eyes open, I rest my head
upon my knees. Fate is cruel.
I look out at the blue/grey sky,
and wonder why.
 
Life is never easy and perfection is rare.
But why does it taunt me.
I close my eyes, go back to my memories,
they're all I have now.
All I will ever have. I never knew
that I would actually miss you.

Karen Hayward ©2012 - Edited 2020 Image and words

What am I?

Descriptive prose…

I am small and edible. My skin is a mixture of Black (but could be considered brown) and muted white. I am life, I have the ability to bloom and procreate. Some of us are eaten, some are not. Those of us who are not eaten, start life  in a dark, cold and damp environment. My new home needs heat, and as long as I am kept damp and warm I will begin to grow.

My body arches towards the warmth that motivates me, pushing against tremendous weight, I stretch until finally the darkness is gone and all around me is light. But  my fight goes on, I  need more heat, more light and so my body stretches even more so. I am faced with challenges, my home grows dry, dehydrating my body, slowing and sometimes stopping my growth and from above cold drops of water are poured heavily down upon my weak body, only the strong can with stand the pressure.

As my body grows and reaches for the skies, the wind whips around my tiny frame, threatening to snap my body beyond repair. Evolution has prepared me, and my body thickens, the heat grows more intense by the day and calling me  closer, it is  love, and I must go to it.

I am growing taller now, green, my skin is rough, my body thick and my limbs growing larger everyday. I do not have a look of anything spectacular, I have a head green, rough, but shapely. And still I grow. I am stronger now, but need help to stand alone,I have outgrown my environment and can see beyond the walls that cage me.

I can grow no more, I am becoming weak, I open my heart.  It is now that I shine, my heart is open, and there I reveal new life, so small and perfectly placed, my true beauty revealed, I am spectacular, vibrant, my crown glowing among so much green.

 

Answers on a post card…. 

Karen Hayward © 2012 – Edited 2020 Image and words

Heated towels.

I need a heated towel.
Not a radiator.
Not a heated towel rail.
Not even a tumble dryer
or a steaming iron.
I need a heated towel.
I need to wrap myself
in warmth to thaw this
chill.
I need a body towel.
Heated.
Not warm or tepid.
Heated.
To ease the cold spasms
of my aching body.
It needs a hood with satin
pull cords to ensure
the heat stays in.
I’ll need a catheter.
Once hot I refuse to remove
not even to wee.
One day the cold damp
of Britain will kill me.
I need to move.

Karen Hayward ©2016