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Month: January, 2016

A reflection

I am merely a reflection, a mirage of self.

A modern day mime artist with the power

to interact.

I reflect whatever you reflect.

Love me and I will fall to my knees and love you back.

Loathe me behind those broken eyes and I will smile

as my blood sours.

Respect me, respect me as a unique artifact of human nature

and I will hold you to the highest esteem.

Lie to me, utter untruths and pieces held back and I will imitate you.

I will copy lie for lie and smile as I do so.

Adore me, cherish me and I will make each day feel a new like the

very first kiss, over and over.

Play me, believe I am a fool locked in a day dream of elusive truths

and I will reflect you, I will play as you do and I will be the fool


for the fool goes unseen through the journey of life.

I am merely a reflection, a mirage of self.

A modern day mime artist with the power

to interact.

I reflect whatever you reflect.


Karen Hayward ©2016



Never alone.

I wonder sometimes if you ever recall that night,

or the other one, or the one before because in honest

prose there are so many more. I look behind and

see an empty space where you should stand.

Looking back I am so full of thanks.


I looked bitterness in its eyes and refused to move

and in that moment I had everything to lose.

I thought I was alone and the heaviness stung


Because someone was watching.

I wonder late at

night, when darkness has me in its grips

how it is I could have missed.

Perfect timings, locks and keys.


As I lay alone on white starched sheets

the end of result of desolate weeks

I thought I was alone, the heaviness stung.


And you broke as you threw the anger at me

not for a moment did you look and see. The catalyst

of chance that had to occur, I know this now,

I was everything for her. As the emptiness stung

and you reminded me daily, I was never fully a lady.


And when I thought I was alone, when you weren’t at my side

when I searched in the shadows for somewhere to hide…

the heaviness stung, but I was never alone.


Blocking my path and leading the way. Silent smiles and

whispered love that refused to lay. Knowing eyes and

a hint of kindness enough for the shy. Perfect timings, locks and keys.

I was never alone, I just couldn’t see, there has always

been somebody, deep in the shadows, walking beside me.


Karen Hayward ©2016.

Impotent intentions.

Your empty vial no longer stings,

it’s not me,

it’s just one of those things.

It’s the result of a mechanical life

you always forget to wind the clock

you lost the manual for your wife.




Jack Daniels and Coke, one for me, one for my Angel.

My angry torrent of words still fizzle in my fingers

the un-lurching feeling inside still lingers.

A deep rootedness inside that screams

and I do not know what it means.

A constant maze of symbols, and like

Peter, I put out my hand for a thimble

because long gone is my knowledge

hiding out back in the shadows with courage.

I know they beg that I see, numbers simply follow me

they seep into the depths of my dreams,

to whisper in the calm of sleep

the reason that I should keep

and still I cannot see.

So plastic beakers for two, JD and coke

My Angels, dearest it’s been a while since

we spoke. Cards on the table show me the way

take hold of my cold and bony fingers and lead

me. Do not lay trust in me that I will find

my way, i’m lucky most days to make it through

just okay. You were there on my darkest

days when alone I stood and faced a bitter world,

you had my back when I fell between the cracks.

You stood in the shadows whilst I stood alone

in the darkness. You showed me how to love

myself even though I believed myself invisible.

You gave me a world where I am seen,

and still you expect me to know what it means!

More JD less coke Angels dearest so glad we spoke!!!


Karen Hayward ©2016


The other side of the arch.

I dream’t last night in vivid detail of churches burning,

the church was symbolic, the specific church is the root

of my distrust in religion, or people perhaps. I sometimes

think the two over lap. As I watched smoke or stream,

I believed it to be steam,

as I watched it billow from the building, I skipped

through an arch,

a big ornate dirty grey stone arch

and there on the other side was blue skies green fields

and although I felt fear and I searched and searched for my past,

it wasn’t there and around me were new yet familiar faces,

all of them calm

as though they couldn’t see the other side of the arch.


Karen Hayward ©2016

What if Cinderella were a whore?

What if…Cinderella didn’t attend the ball?

What if she skipped along the dark and dusty hall

bare foot in royal purple fish net stockings

swaying her hips and really rocking.


What if her Godmother, were actually the devil

and they sat at the fireside a night truly to revel.

Whiskey taste and smoke filled eyes

isn’t this better then the made up lies?


What if the pumpkin were a cucumber instead

and the glass slipper was actually perfect head!

And as the hands moved round to the beating clock

her tongue devoured the throbbing cock.


What if she wore her soul on her skin

and never actually dreamed of that little gold ring.

What if convention was never her path

would that really be so daft?


What if she danced to a tune played just for her

and lived her days in a constant whirl?

What if she cleaned the floors with the spit of her need

and crotchless  knickers ready to lead.


What if the mice are lovers of the past

empty souls that could never last

and follow her still trapped by obsession

in a constant state of intercession.


Karen Hayward ©2016.





The Darkness has a cast Iron grip.


Some days it becomes me.  A heavy weight

upon my shoulders as the world pushes and

pushes. Some nights I forget what before

felt like. I close my eyes, my mind wanders,

but it can’t, it can’t recall a time before the pain.

I pull air into my lungs, ribs wincing from

the sudden movement my shoulders scream

despite my need to breathe. I pull my knees into

my chest, each muscle groaning. Perhaps I can sit

perfectly still let the coldness creep through me,

let the darkness take me. But the darkness

already has me tight within his claws.

Squeezing me tighter each throbbing pain,

each screaming ache, a reminder that I stand

alone and as my soul is taken into the

depths of the abyss, I wonder did you

know why it is I struggle to believe when

you give me no light at all to see.

Karen Hayward ©2016.


Repost just cos she rocks my world. 

To my daughter, who let go of the swimming pool edge for the first time yesterday.

‘You’re doing that being proud thing, stop it.’  You cry through muffled tears.

But I am proud and I cannot stop the surge of emotions that rush through me.

‘I didn’t want to do it, I thought I was going to fall.’

I understand, but you didn’t fall, you flew.

‘I was scared.’

I know you were, but the fear didn’t win, you did.

‘I could’ve gone under.’

You could have, but you didn’t, you stood tall upon your feet.

‘It’s not a proud moment Mum, I was so scared.’

Precisely, my little lioness, why I am so very proud of you. Courage comes in so many forms.

Karen Hayward ©2016.

Lucky charm or call to death?

My Dad warned me about guys like you,
with your charming looks and eyes of blue,
your slippery tongue
and blind need for fun.
My Dad warned me of guys like you.
They canna keep it in their pants
he’d tell me gently so it wasn’t a rant.
They’ll end up riddled with STI’s
Stay away child, my Dad would cry.
I slipped into the blue pools of your eye’s
your charms magnetic, you didn’t need to try,
as you spun yarn upon yarn pulling me in
till that moment when my brain came up to breathe.
My Dad warned me of guys like you,
The charm he said, is never true.
Their colours show with time he said,
even willing to make a bet.
I broke the field of magnetic pull,
walked away when I wasn’t full,
you glared as I walked the floor,
Mumbled something as I shut that door.
Time moved the way it does,
In no particular incessant rush.
I saw you here, I saw you there,
not a glance to show you ever cared.
Years have passed and years have gone,
my Dad’s wise words are never wrong.
So much charm always another gal upon your arm,
never did you stop to think of the harm.
Riddled now with deaths calling card,
all those lives, it must be hard.
Spreading joy and love and death,
I thank the skies I upped and left.

Karen Hayward ©2016.

Setting upon my soul.

I rest for a moment, gathering strength beneath the flaming skies.
The orange flickers of hope draining as darkness falls.
Soon death will sparkle from the depths,
each star a worn out tear, once wept.
The frozen fingers of reality will draw against my skin,
freezing all that I am within.

Karen Hayward ©2016.