Too Early to Title

Are you here?
You’ve been searching,
collecting clues;
perhaps this segment
of sea will weed or
reveal identity truths.

Just you here
and your mind.
What do you carry?
What have you
left behind?

Look about.
Family. Strangers.
One in the same.
Or entirely different?

Who has come
to search,
and what for?
Who will leave
with less,
with more?

So many shells,
filled and hollow.
So many opportunities
made and lost
among people.

Memories can be made.
Promises broken.
Second chances given.
Losses counted.

Each drop significant,
each drop matters,
though so vast is
the ocean’s water.

Water is one,
a singular thing.
We don’t count drops
until we are thirsty.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Soft Impressions

Let me walk
with you awhile,
whether or not you
lend me your shoes
for a mile.

In fact, let’s both
take them off
and leave them here
as we surf the shore,

finding naturally
the treasures
within us each,
bare feet
on common
shifting grounds
equally.

One set of footprints
in the sand
they say is when
we are carried by Him,

but in the interim
let me be the second
impressions alongside yours,
for in this world
we all need sometimes
to see the touch
so longed for.

We don’t need to hold hands.
We don’t need to even speak.
Let’s just walk together awhile
in the comfort of kindred company.

And should you be here again tomorrow,
maybe we could exchange shoes for a mile.
And should you come back at our planned time,
maybe for a bit, we could leave our shells behind.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Bubble Dreams

Dangerous to dream, I know.
Foolish to fly in a bubble!
Either could burst
without notice,
drop you fast in a plummet
to the hard reality surface.

But what if…

the trajectory was directed
by angels’ breaths
and the bubble made impenetrable,
a shield only able to be
forged from the past,
and you were gently lowered
precisely as intended
by the benevolence
of your higher power
assisting you in the navigation
toward your heart’s
deepest and purest desire?
What if the bubble
met passion’s fire?
And in the ashes
two phoenixes rose
and began new life
and left behind
all the rainbows
found in bubbles?

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Tears Dry (With Audio)

tears dry
like rain subsides
weather a part of nature
designed with intent
by our Creator

feelings, emotions
love and joy
despair and heartache
all part of what
deems us alive

would you trade it all in
for numbness instead?

if you already did
what could bring you back
from the breathing-dead?

perhaps a lot of it
comes from our own doing
and neglect

how many times we must
get in the way of His plans!

His plans for each
never carved in stone
I do not believe
for fate takes away free will
and free will shackles and frees

these pains must too
have a purpose
maybe more than a force
forming us

these tragedies…
who is to say
the why until
it is revealed one day

it is the blind eye
that is turned
rather than the cheek

that I think each
must explain
for admittance
through the gates

will He play back the footage
what will He deem as the highlights
will they match with what we think
we’ve done to please with our lives?

tears dry
like rain subsides
even the sky
cries sometimes

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Nature Nurtured

toad-eye entrancement
needed memory-loss spell
forgetting those woes

Forlorn I was,
but Nature won’t have it
for long,
always intercepting,
knowing the sure-fire ways
to illicit my dimples;
this time,
in an unused planter,
my own fairy garden
to behold,

and if that wasn’t enough,
the realization
it was a family
portraying love.

Funny how I always see
the romance between
two fungi touching

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and how there doesn’t seem
to be such a thing
as a mushroom
without the merry,
underfoot fairy
tales in toadstools,
though they wouldn’t actually hold
a toad unless they were magical,
but then again, I am the biggest
believer in that, after all…

unexpected growth
merry mushroom family
unplanted smile sprouts

Faithfully, my family
out-of-doors
takes care of me
whenever I start to feel
forlorn.

And my pup, of course.

Poems and images ©LauraDenise

Princess Duties

I am not claiming to have a gift,
to be the one sought out
by enchanted beings,
but can anyone else see
the crab in the leaves
peering at me?

Clearly, he has a message,
to have crossed the busy street
from the beach;
does Titan need me
to immediately return to sea?

I hope all is well.
I get up close
to my crustacean friend.
I listen with my eyes
and take heart
to what he’s said…

misplaced habitat
red crab stares from the bushes
nets my attention

Barricades and Gates

Don’t count the days
you’ve been apart
or all the fissures
that keep forming
in your heart.

Don’t count at all
except to count on the reunion.
Sometimes it’s necessary
to future-focus in those moments.

Close your eyes
and let that vision in;
the light of faith
makes the best stitches.

Stop red-exing. Green circle
all the days left in this life.
Keep hope open and
into each moment invited.

Don’t count the tears that drop
in the seemingly endless flood.
Count on His greater plan.
Lift your face to the Son.

Pray for the courage to take the wheel
as the angels give directions.
Sometimes we have to wait longer;
sometimes we need to take action.

Sometimes it’s up to them;
sometimes it’s not determined by fate
but by every action
we don’t and do make.

Dead ends are the Devil.
Detours, angel interventions.
The first, avalanches suffocating.
The latter, breathways to salvation.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Hope Is A Red Balloon (With Audio)

Hope is a red balloon.
To dream is to release,
To let the heart again believe:
Benediction granted wings.

Hope is a red balloon.
To fear is to release.
Self-shackling to the ribbon needed
For freedom to be achieved.

Hope is a red balloon.
But with passenger and knapsack attached,
It becomes the passageway
Between spirit-death and life hatched.

Hope is a red balloon
That may burst at any moment
Over deep, dark uncharted waters
With drowning a likely occurrence.

Hope is a red balloon.
Faith is to ride it into the winds
Knowing the trajectory
Is calculated and adjusted
by Him,

Delivering to safety,
Granting the dream.
Because you held fast
To Hope’s string.

Poem and image and recitation ©LauraDenise

Release Me

How many stories
can there be in petals?

How long can I remain
unfound in the meadow?

How can the same patch of land
be so ever-changing?

How many more potential bad days
can Mother Nature keep preventing?

How is it that I am the only one bearing witness
to so much magic on a daily basis?

How much longer can the toad’s eye keep me entranced?
And the intricate details in the anatomy of insects?

How much time has passed in that outside world
while I sit among the birds and squirrels?

How is it that nonhuman friends have become so underrated?
And introverts given such a hard time for avoiding socialization?

My colleagues are ordering their second round of drinks.
I confirm with the waiter, “Just water for me.”
Torturous are the hours I prove I’m not an island!
(What’s a few white lies to protect my safe-haven?)

A dragonfly stops by to wink at me,
shows off how he can fly away so freely into the breeze…