love

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Category: twinflames

Essence upon the air I breathe.

maygarden 015

Walk with me as one.

For was this not always

your most desired wish?

To see the world through eyes anew,

to experience life in my view?

Wander freely, listen to life’s music,

watch God’s miracles,

talk with nature in unity, laugh,

dear God laugh, for laughing is compulsory,

a must,

a treasured past time that transmits

the frequency of life echoing through the

atoms of our existence. Do you see?

Silver thread aligns a row of clouds in

preparation and I paint the walls in grey

so melancholy knows

already my name and

never comes a searching

for my soul in which to tame.

Walk with me as one beneath

a single sun and illuminating moon

your essence upon my skin and

spirit within my soul, come now,

dearest,

walk with me…

Karen  Hayward ©2017

 

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

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.

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

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.