love

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Category: love

Darkest Light.

 

Photo

Darkest Light

Consuming
and all drowning
my essence of night.
Deepest blue,
darkest burgundy,
it matters not,
my essence is cloaked
in this state, this void.
Think not of my night
and my aura as negative
for a dark state
can be a canvas.
A blank page for
something bright
to create. . .something
bright to form
my nights’ sky
and give it character.
and make it
come alive.

Yet it should consume me.
Darkness such as the night sky
should devour me, swallowing
my essence into oblivion.
Do you see me?
I am a mere whisper
of light lost in the echos of time. Yet,
when you lay me upon
your dark essence,
your canvas
becomes my art.
Your depth is my contrast.
I tip toe through your darkest blues
leaving illuminated kisses.
My essence, glimmers and glistens
upon your touch, for my light. . .
is love,
created by your darkness.

Words & Image
©5-2017 Locthiese/Karen Hayward

Check out more work crafted by the multi-talented Loc Thiese by clicking here

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If time is linear…?

img_20160901_223009.jpg

So tell me my sweet,

whisper it too me as I sleep.

If it is so that time is linear

then those days that we believe(d)

that the Oceans mist beckoned

to our souls in ancient whispers

of love’s unity traversing the

barrier of time,

perhaps, I ponder now,

that we were wrong,

for in the sea’s golden mist

I hear now a souls song.

The guiding light of purity

embracing me upon this shore.

The ebbing tide that caresses our minds

and teases the contours of our spirit

the distant call of past lives, an eternity

in love and now it is, my dearest sweet

that I hear your voice upon the sea,

a linear promise that you are guiding me

true love traversing time, forever in unity.

Karen Hayward *2017

Image and words.

 

 

 

Spring Seemed the Day When Love Came to Play

 mikeocean

Spring Seemed the Day When Love Came to Play

(Michael J. Garland and Karen Hayward)

My muse, my love,
I give to you the very soul
of my ink and the lifeblood
of my page.
Recto, verso…this blank canvas
is yours,
is mine,
is ours. Let us spill raw beauty upon the
cascading new horizons that befall us.

Our canvas splashed
with a riot of color.
We have a love to weather the hours.
A deepening beautiful,
Fated begins.
My love,
your love,
our love,
sit with me close ,
make love with our pens.
A lifetime of mornings to start it again,
is yours,
is mine,
is ours.
Spring seemed the day when love came to play.

Michael J. Garland ©2017
Karen Hayward ©2017
Michael J.Garland ©2017 Image.

Amber and Blue.

karenart

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…

https://plus.google.com/+MichaelJamesGarland/posts

Equality…

I saw it coming

as I always do,

a dance for one?

never,

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!

ladyarmor

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,

why?

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.

KH©2016

Without the Rainbow Pieces.

Photo courtesy of Walter E. Gantt. ©2016

‘Pieces of a Rainbow.’

waltergannt

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.

Creating raw art.

If I break, if I let the feelings of helplessness become me

as they shatter through my existence and tears break the

barrier of resistance, what then? Who will help me gather

the broken bits and glue them haphazardly back together?

No one. If I break I am alone for I am alone. So my tears will

fall only when darkness surrounds me, my mask will slip

only when the shadows are all that is there. Till then I will

continue to let you believe I am strength, I am strong for the

worthy can see through my words, my actions and see not

my strength but the tears that beg to fall. And when that day

arrives I will hand to them my every fear, my every dream my

every shadow that haunts, every ounce of helplessness,

and together in my raw and vulnerable state

we will create a piece of art.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

Naked fury. 

The impulsive abandoned 

rush of excitement as anger 

roars through the skies around, 

as nature crashes, 

and our bodies entwine in naked fury.

Wave upon wave of pleasure

releasing from the core of my

being, need spilling into

my fingers, stroking, feeling. 

Thirst building from within

as fingers explore my inner

pleasure. 

In your eyes I see flames 

of passion roaring to the

surface, yours, mine, ours. 

Soaring heat burning in the essence

as it slips between my lips,

as I peak, convulsing, releasing,

as you hit the back of my throat,

as it creeps through my soul,

as I swallow it down,

as I spill across your fingers. 

The essence of our souls 

dancing in blind fury 

among the crashing waves of natures force.
Karen Hayward ©2016
 

And I am drowning.

It is believed that you must hit the sharp edges of the rocks, first. That you must endure darkness and let it seep into your soul before you can rise. It is believed that this fuel of empty loneliness will one day be the stepping stones toward the stars. But I cannot feel the light of the dying orbs that scatter throughout my skies.I bleed profusely as I fall and fall again. And I cannot reach the top. I am drowning and no one hears my voice as water fills my lungs. And I am drowning in the despair of poisoned air that I breath in silently as I pick my shadow up from the floor and sew her to my toes for if I have my shadow then I am never truly alone. It is believed that our internal light burns like a beacon calling into the twilight hours, mine despairingly wanders through the darkness, tear stained cheeks, there is no glue that can fix what is broken, splintered particles littered through the time of existence. And I am drowning and shadow is a miss. And I am drowning, putrid water filling my lungs holding me down. And I am drowning.
Karen Hayward ©2016