A topnotch site

Month: December, 2016

Amber and Blue.


Amber and Blue

When you think of me before I do
When you think of me instead of you
my everything in a world untrue
You are the silver and the gold
The amber and blue
A crescendo of rhythm in my heart unfolds
the little things you do,
is the everything I hold.
From amber and blue
aura everlastingly bold
I can feel love’s brightest glow
Let the the notions of love
be the binding glue
in you i find the beauty
In all that you do
Vibrant and alive..
like amber and blue
I can only cherish the fates that made you mine
A flaming joy in crystalline time
You are the sparkle the starlight sublime
The gravity that holds me close to you.
the beauty of love in the amber and blue

(c) 2016 Michael J. Garland
(c) image Karen Hayward

More of Michael’s amazing poetry can be found on his Google Plus page…


The fallen.

Oh fallen princess tell me.

Where now is your perfect

grace among your accursed

declarations upon others.

Look down upon your hands

you are not without the tainted

markings of pride. Hearts are

not to played, love is not a

weapon of destruction.

Jealousy is not the Trojan

horse of the soul. I have

wounded you yet my I uttered

nothing but truth.

Come out now from your

shadows of deceit remove

your mask for this is not a

masquerade ball and I have

seen what lays beneath

your aesthetically pleasing skin.

The devil comes in many a guise

you are not the actions of which

you speak. You are not the words

upon your page

you are not the promises

of which you make.

You are but a fallen princess

using others to catapult yourself

into his mighty kingdom…..I fear you

will find hid gates

locked upon your arrival.


Morning bird song. 

Morni g song, sung through

Frozen droplets behind

A curtain. Soft mist, wisp

Through concrete city

Carrying natures perfect 

Song to hearts awake. 
Karen Hayward ©2016


I tired of your melancholy accursing

the page in a child’s rage,

the swinging pendulum of a

promiscuous prick teasing succubus,

swimming in the pits of

reality displaying sexuality.

Hands stained, morality

lost in translation begging for

any  Gods elation.

I tire of this game of condemnation,

send me home to the

flaming pits of my dark lord and

let him breathe fire into my soul,

fuck it create a vortex

let me be swallowed by

a giant black hole i’ll sign my

name across the skies in black kohl.

Burn me upon the

stakes in which I was born,

utter hate within

prayers for the devil,

my lord, he hears every

whisper anger is his

fucking transistor!

Butter wouldn’t melt oh but

you are the devils girl, you win,

you have ruined my world.

Karen Hayward ©2016

To be the poet of the darkness.

How very blessed I am as I spill thoughts upon a blank canvas

my soul the ink of my heart. I can weave magical worlds of

mystic glory, Celtic horizons, white knights  ..dark knights,

beautiful enchantresses lost beneath celestial skies in divine

mortality upon liquid gold lakes of glory. Oh how very blessed

my fingers are to entangle the beauty of a dark and dying world.

But lest I ever forget with great glory comes great responsibility.

I can coarsely stitch together the etched pains of manipulation,

prostitute sinfully my soul upon sacred markings of envy,

spit, gracefully, callously poison darts at the heart of of my victim,

pulling at silken threads held by a puppeteers fair hand

my fingers stained with the blood of deceit, the sweat of ego

as my spoiled soul tantrums at the indignation and

mere whisper of loneliness. And oh such responsibility

comes at the hand of a poet.

Karen Hayward ©2016

Caged in a cage of a cage.

Whispers in the darkness

away from sight,

venom struck beliefs.

Long gone exchanges

of love that defined us.

You hover at my side

waiting for my demise

so you can celebrate in

triumph that you were right.

Egg shells surround me,

shards of glass cover the

ground upon I walk,

my blood is spilling my

spirit leaking,

my fight is going.

I ponder the worthiness

of my dreams,

there is no light.

My own ego my only fight,

but we all know the ego is rarely right.

You break my voice so I cannot speak,

you steal my thoughts so I cannot think,

you poison my mind with your darkness

a self imposed cage you are the key,

cast iron heavy at my neck you pull me down,

you keep me down.

Perhaps you are right,

I reach for stars that are not mine,

for skies outside my reach.

You need only break my resolve

for I have nothing and I am no one,

I have no where to run.

This darkness you shroud me

in is the scars upon my soul,

your branded beliefs of me.

How very silly of me to believe

I was capable of standing

when I fall at every hurdle,

when I trip at every stone,

how very silly of me to have not noticed,

your cage upon me has simply grown.

Karen Hayward ©2016


I saw it coming

as I always do,

a dance for one?


it’s always two.

And now I bore

of playing nice,

i’ll simply charge

an equal price.

Karen Hayward ©2016

Downgrade….good luck with that!


So you’ve down graded me to (love) friendship plus a bit?

I’m wondering how the fuck that fits.

For I get it we are a must,

but darling you’ve forgot my lust.

In my veins burns heaven and hell,

I’m not made for a life where passion don’t dwell.

Stagnant waters sour my brain

life without desire drives me fucking insane!

(weren’t we synced? or was that just a line?)

I’m repeating history,


It’s a fucking mystery.

Please stop picking at petals they’re dropping to the floor,

push me in this corner my soul will take no more.

Love me as you did or love me not all,

I have plenty of friends to show up at the ball.

You said that I was life yet you yearn for something else,

pain they say is poetry by those who’ve only felt.

And I wonder if you even know what it is to love,

for it seems to me to be that one will never be enough.

I’ve walked that path myself,

self inflicted pain upon my health.

The constant search,

the grueling lurch,

the measly offers to our internal church

and we dress it darling, by declaring we were born to flirt.


Without the Rainbow Pieces.

Photo courtesy of Walter E. Gantt. ©2016

‘Pieces of a Rainbow.’


I feel a vast emptiness inside of me,

spreading through the black storm

clouds, I search for my Rainbow and

I recall you gave it away.

And I search  for my love

and I remember you gave it away.

And I wonder where is my passion

and I recall you gave up that too.

And I ponder the way we once connected,

perfectly synchronized

and I don’t even try as you gave that away…

And now I wonder what is left…

A future?

A future without love

without passion

without soul

…is a slow and torturous death.

Karen Hayward ©2016

Image used with permission ©Walter E. Gantt. 2016

Please see more of his amazing photography here on g+

His wonderful photography can also be

viewed and brought here at Fine Art America.

Without the rainbow. 

I feel a vast emptiness inside of me, spreading through the black storm clouds and I search see for my Rainbow and recall you gave it away. And I search  for my love and remember you gave it away. And I wonder where is my passion and I recall you gave up that too and I ponder the way we once connected, perfectly synchronised and I don’t even try as you gave that away…And now I wonder what is left…A future? A future without love without passion without soul is a slow and torurous death. 
Karen Hayward ©2026