I am but a silent whisper
A petal lost on the breeze.
An autumn leaf burned
Orange, delving into a sea
Of red. I am but porcelain
Or finest lace, softest satin
Warmest cashmere, i am but
The morning birds you hear.
I am but serene glass, celestial
Dance, divine beauty, star dust.
I am but star dust dancing
In the sun’s rays.
I am but a whisper
Hiding beneath this warrior.
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.
The time has come that I must
again stand upon my feet
and go forth
into this world.
Rising from the ashes
now the ink within my pen,
your love is the voice within
my words… and yet still my legs
shake as a new born deer does on her
Image found on Pinterest
The world, it sounds all too noisy.
Cars swishing through puddles
Raindrops slamming into pools
Of momentary stagnant waters.
Worn shoes pounding concrete.
Birds screaming, echos drifting.
Wind whistling a storm through
Branches creaking in dying trees.
People talking, thoughts uttering,
Teeth gnashing, tongue slurping,
Flowers peeling back petals a slow
Mechanical grinding of iron on iron.
Life exploding into chaotic sound…
And all I want is silence. And all I
Want is silence.
To be or not…To be…Now that, is the question,
I will drown in this sea of indiscretion.
To spill anger will condemn me in the pits of selfish need,
Yet, to grieve without voice I am warned, take heed.
To break a promise of magnitude on created trust
Would dispell the eagle’s and thier scornful lust,
Yet still I saunter on purpose edge of qualms
Self imposed malice, pointless wars meant only to harm.
I feel echoless screams erupt from my soul,
Pele? She has nothing on this ancient Celtic Doll.
To be or not…Lingers the crossed eyed devil,
As his soldiers fickle and sweet revel.
My growl a soft rumbling hiss,
Still calmed I see by your celestial kiss.
Still calmed I see by the essence of you
Turns out what we thought…Was true.
I am tired of the show, the clown’s go round and round which one can hola loudest from the pits of desperation. You, always suggestive, that the wood work would peel back and cockroaches would appear, how very right you were. Am i truly such an oddity in this farcical of life? Perhaps I am, for often even you were blind to my truths. Nativity, I wear upon my sleeve in technicoloured stripes of audacity and I choke on the flaming screams of….Fans? I am tired of the circus, the clown’s are evil, knife juggling fuck heads all of them jumping aboard the boat that no-one steers ..Let them sail into oblivion using your charisma as oars.
To say I don’t miss you would be a lie, this world’s loss has left a void within me that can never be filled and yet I feel the essence of you burning in my veins pleading I look up…A moment without my smile is a lifetime in purgatory. I hear the ancient whispers of your voice as you remind me again and again how you loved my energy that demanded silver woven clouds…But my hands lay bare and my silver thread is not there. For in me now lays an emptiness I cannot share.