Curtsy

Sandpiper scurries
to and fro
with the fanciest of footwork
from tide’s leading flow,

dipping, receding,
with each orchestrated ebb,
back and forth
in time, once and again.

I raise my arms
and curtsy too
and dance
with the wind
despite the gray and
black and blue.

Stepping

Stepping from rooftop
onto the aerial ice,
fathoms deep, soul still
lights…

Poem and photo ©LauraDenise

Golden Become

Golden become the leaves
part from equinox,
not from autumn yet
but the hour before the fall.

Kaleidoscope Escape

To pause the pain,
I watch the wind
spin petaled pinwheels
as the colors blend.

I reach to turn the wild-
flower kaleidoscope,
hiding in the hues
of an alternate vision
of beauty and hope.

Perhaps I will not return
to my world of gray;
perhaps I will, but disintegrate
The Cloud with these
faith rays.

All poems and images on this site ©LauraDenise

I Watch the Squirrels

I watch the squirrels
during page breaks
as the last
of day’s colors
follow the sun,
so subtly
slink away,

in silhouette now,
shockingly high in the pines,
three frolicking,
distracting me
from pains
and story line.

The scurrying subsides
as the chorus begins,
unified insects
and amphibians.

Another blood-thirsty buzz
in my ear,
but I’m mid poem
and the stars
are getting ready
to appear.

Excited for the evening chill
upon my Southern bare feet,
I hold my modest wine
to the laptop light
to check before I drink,

pajama bottoms on,
chair always reclined,
looking up,
obsessed with sky
and the divine.

Sunset, twilight,
stars, moon:
the only Friday-Night Lights
that can amuse this recluse.

The Condition

The thing about self-love
is the condition
that it be
unconditional.
I must be a friend
to myself
when I need
one the most

and remember
what makes me, me,
are not flaws,
and in the handling
of my wounds
after stumbling
must come
the greatest care
of all.

Pieces we can’t get back
and permanent scars
must simply become
part of the beauty
of the sculpture
of the heart.

Uneditingly Brave

What if
we didn’t edit
but left
everything
the way
in which
we were blessed
with it,
the highlights
disputably the
highs in light,
the shadows
lovingly interweaved,
the bridges
sometimes camouflaged
or only revealed
to the one
meant to
see;
what if the walk
is intentionally
neverending
with boardwalks
to deter us
from fully
exploring
the depths of
the offerings,
the possibilities
of meeting
the ones we are meant to
and the ones by chance,
and what if those
are unfathomably unravelable
in free will, fate, and
happen-
stance…?

Breathing Light

I wish
in my towering height,
bloom stretched
to the beautiful sky,

only to
bear seeds,
to take hold
inside of you
on this breath
of love’s breeze.

Among your shadows,
I yearn
to sprout
to devour
all choking
self-doubts

and leave
your soul
to bleed
only in white.

I wish to feed you
my excess
light.

Dissolving Stitches

We all have shadows,
how easily, daily,
we forget,
ego mostly to protect
increasing the brightness,
blinding with discordance
who you are and who I am,
sharing the same thread.

The dark is not blocked light,
shadows are not turned-backs,
but the yin and yang of life
natural inside, what we all have.

Let us all embrace
the shades,
open ourselves
to being stitched
into the quilt
of human race,

each of our picture shapes
turning to color
and telling our stories
so we may wrap ourselves
in a shared comfort.