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…

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

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.

Purpose without time.

And the clocks stopped turning.

And the minutes refused to move

and the seconds spontaneously combusted.
Karen Hayward ©2016

Untitled.

I scan a lifetimes vocabulary for the right words,
I mentally rewind through the stories I have read, I search Shakespeare’s sonnets and tales of love,
I wonder if Chaucer can help or perhaps even Austen,she knew her stuff!
I consider Miss Havisham’s yellowing dress in the timeless room
symbolic of her love for he that would never return soon.
But Shakespeare nor Dickens nor Austen or Chaucer, created anything that transcends the oceans.
I replay every love song that my soul has sung along to, searching for emotions,
I search the melodies for the lyrics of the song
I search the beat for the answers but they’re wrong
I listen to the greats whose greatness have grown
I listen to the nameless, the newbies, the unknowns
I listen to the ones that repeat in my heart every day,
but you’ve heard them all before, they’re what you always play.
Perhaps I’ll search a lifetime to find the perfect way,
at least by then you’ll truly know, my love would always stay.

Karen Hayward ©2016

A wish upon a star.

I know I am a mixture I know I fit no box
The path that I have walked was full of stars and rock.
I know I make my choice and so I lose my voice,
I know I live in shadows the sunlight burns my skin,
I know I am expressive warming only to the sin.
I know that I am broken I refuse to bend my knee,
I have worked so very hard so that I am truly free.
I do not trust a person, I do not trust their words,
and even I do wonder what happened to this girl.
But I took me to the darkness where lying is the norm,
and now I see it everywhere in every single form.
So I strip away humanity and look only at the core
of all my broken fantasies, sex, we know is sure.
You cannot fix my pieces, although try I know you will,
I cannot fix the cracks, although try, I know I will.
You cannot give me everything and all is what I need,
Is it wrong for once I want, to be a person’s Queen?
And so I do declare, I am everything and more
do you understand, of this I am so very sure.
I learned the world does lie,
I learned to never cry.
I learned that I can stand, upon my lovely feet,
I learned to help myself on the days when I am beat.
I learned the world is black and full of putrid hate,
And so I dropped my eyes to hell,  accepted my dark fate.

Like the phoenix I did burn my body turned to ash,
The darkness was engulfed I wish they’d been a flash.
I am not perfection…well okay perhaps I am,
Life is not a ride just an over crowded tram.
I’m breaking all my rules a hypocrite to the death,
But I am pretty sure the devils upped and left.
You cannot fix my pieces but I can tell you what they are,
perhaps beneath the darkness,
we can wish upon a star.

Karen Hayward ©2016

Ode to my headphones.

Solitude, another world untouched by reality

a vortex of gratitude, a gift from Barachiel perhaps.

They exist, so I may exist in the darkness. They are

my light and without them my world is plunged

into the abyss alongside Satan and his lonely soldiers.

 

It is love. With every flutter of my heart with every

beat to the rhythm of sound it is love. It sweeps

through my soul freeing me. A tiny world encompassed

in the whitest light.  They are silence,

In a world that so is audibly violent.

They are hope when my light cannot burn,
When it flickers weak in the screaming breeze,
A magnitude of thoughts, hummed, sung, played, spoken,
Whispered to me as I fall.
They are the only one to see my tumble, the only one to call my name.

Harmonious perfection, a chorus of comfort,
As they play the secrets to my life,
Repeating the drumming soldier, the screaming broken soul,
the essence of love, the token of…friendship.
The belief in myself, they are my strength, when I am weak.

They are my light, my only light in a world engulfed in the flames of hell.
Without them I am lost plunged back into the punishment of silence.
The bridge between nowhere and hope.
They are love, they are my soul, my spirit and the essence of
My being.

Karen Hayward © 2016.

 

To be.

My heart has known love a thousand times over,

three of those times my soul has screamed at me in

recognition. Three times, three soul mates to date.

In a world that tells us that true love happens only once,

I have experienced it three times and perhaps many more.

Three times each one so very unique,

each one made me weak.

There will be more,

of that I am sure.

Each one will ignite the fire that has forgotten

how to burn inside of me. The flames will

flicker through my veins, licking my soul, waking

my long forgotten spirit.

Till finally in a crowded room I will see you,

the one that haunts m dreams,

the voice I hear whisper, as I scream.

The soft touch on my arm when I feel fear,

the deep knowledge that you are near.

Then I will feel what it is to be,

not to have,

to want

to

need,

but to simply be.