Hearts and Wings

I have been absolutely entranced and obsessed with the changing eucalyptus leaves in my backyard. I pass a lot of time observing and listening to them through my lens. I know the poetry each one heart-strums inside me, but no words could ever do these images justice. I will let the poetry speak directly to you instead, for so personal and intimate to me are what these leaves and tree portray… I hope you can see and hear it, too, as it pertains to you. ❤  

Today, I Choose

Today, I choose
to mute the gray,
encroaching ghosts,
and the negativity
of others attempting
to block the rays.

I turn up the colors,
the cardinal’s song,
my own showtune voice
singing along,

the sky blue,
the verdant greens,
the leaves infused with
late summer’s breeze…

Today, I choose
to mute the grays,
to focus only on
the beauty gifted
in this day.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Maiden in White

She seemed to float
in flowing gown of white
through the gardens
in the misty morning light.

With gentle hands,
her fingers brushed,
skimmed over the blossoms
with celestial touch;

the blooms self-muted their hues
as if infused with her purity
until all the world resembled heaven 
for a moment but affording
a glimpse of eternity,

and as she departed,
long, fair hair slow-dancing
into the horizon,
the flowers returned 
to their former colors
and the breeze dissipated. 

No witness but I.
No photograph taken. 
The maiden in white, 
in my mind’s eye, 
eternally painted. 

I wish I had noticed at the time
the one single rose who refused to revert;
I could have at least penned a poem
to gift the hope to others. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Wild Bound (With Audio)

Natural material
but man-constructed
walls me in
instead of fences,
I breathe best
in more open spaces.
Wildflower ascends,
climbs up the border –
two-by-fours frame
her bold yet soft colors,
star-shaped for a reason,
skyward bound, rooted
in treason, restrained
by seasons –
toward freedom,
back to the wild
shunning the restrictions
they keep trying to place
upon her style.

I will follow,
eventually,
perhaps at the end
of the lease.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

A Fallen Blossom At Dawn

Another fallen blossom…
like the ones before
in years passed
I photographed
and told stories for.

Each of these moves me
in such profound ways;
what’s underfoot,
what others pass,
stops me in my tracks
with the silent beauty
so profoundly displayed.

For a lifetime, I feel
I could sit and contemplate,
reflect on all the lessons
and secrets it portrays…

This is how I know
I’m different, 
for off the beaten path,
tucked away,
alone in nature
is my happiest place. 

The soft morning light
haloing the fallen lady
bids me pay respect 
and paint legacy allegories.

Not as sad as the last one
I payed homage to, 
(but of course that is influenced 
by my inner untappable currents
and current surface mood,
no doubt, in turn, affected by
the recent tides and moon…)
this fallen beauty, still so poised,
fills me with bittersweet truths,

for we, the best things, this life itself…
all fleeting, all blossoms plucked by breezes
in the grand scheme of it all,
these hundred years if we are lucky
(but who’s to say that’s luck
when we know not
what’s next and beyond;
perhaps those taken early
were needed for something else,
angels only visiting
to help us with ourselves…)
nothing at all, 
a blink in time,
though insignificant
nor the center 
of the universe 
should we feel;
we are each dearly loved,
part of the same mother tree
unseen but a morph of every variety,
the keeper of every seed and leaf
releasing us one by one
into the world 
upon the breezes
in perfectly timed seasons
to root ourselves
until it’s our time
and we are called back again
like this beautiful blossom
having just detached.
I always wonder if it’s 
a leap of faith or
sacrifice or circumstance.

In any event, who could not
ponder the rest of their life
happening upon

a “fallen” blossom
at dawn. 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Crowning

My fascination,
favorite attraction, 
purest joy
photographing nature,

is finding the meek
among the mundane
and crowning
with due recognition
the beauty beyond fit
for the stage;

sort of like lemonade
from life’s lemons, 
I like to look
at it all through 
the light in my lenses.

The less obvious,
the underfoot trodden,
I refract the rays
to highlight
the forgotten,

and so it goes
as a life lesson:
beauty exists
all around us,

the purest gems
right beside us,
all perfect as is
before the bruiting,
for we are all precious
within.

Far Side of Flower

My photographer daughter nearby
(with better equipment than mine)
inquires why I would take a photo
of the flower from behind,

and I am a bit surprised,
as she usually gets it intuitively,
my fellow creative with
our shared-way-of-seeing-nature genes…

I didn’t have an answer at the time, 
hard to explain the inner, abstract sensations, 
but as I play with the many images I took, 
some of it lends itself to alphabetic translation…

All stories in nature are wordless,
yet powerful are the messages
granted to the ones who listen,
stay long enough for full transmission,

and as beautiful as each is,
whether tales of love or sorrow,
what good is one side or version
or even chapter when the whole

can never truly be told in full
with so many perspectives
and levels of depth;
to have the layers revealed
comes with degrees of entrustment,

and this particular flower
whispered permission
to let me photograph
the other sides after others
would have moved on and left, 

and it is with this honor
that story then becomes
something impossible to convey
in either written or verbal language,

but oh how that message
pierces the core of my soul 
in such profound truths
we have yet to know… 

No poem could do justice
to such revelations,
nor one photograph or two
with so many facets of 
the single bloom 
so humble in 
His glorious creation. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Bluebell Truths

First among the season’s
blooms of Mexican bluebells,
the sight of the familiar color
already having sprung
the leak in my heart’s well,

so profoundly in its silence
rang such messages of truth, 
its face to the soft, setting sun,
its torn wing-petal too,

so humble,
so beautiful,
a story untold:
inner workings
only through
the gentle,
loving light
vulnerably
exposed.

We are meant
to fill in the gaps,
each other hold, 
using the same light
harbored in our own
souls. 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise