Poet. Writer. Photographer.
The pull of the day,
of the years,
of everyone’s needs
leaves shadows
and cavities
from ebb’s
never-ending
taking,
but the sun’s
reflection
warms me
in oranges,
and the glow
stays.
The light
one way
or another
will
illuminate,
independent of
ever reaching
that haunted,
hollowed
space.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Tide flows,
tide ebbs,
changing, hiding,
revealing the edges
of division.
I watch
the transitions,
half dream-drifting,
half paying
detail-attention.
Always thinking.
I ponder on
the ebb and flow,
how one takes
and the other gives
in its rhythmic dance
to and fro
and how taking
can also be
giving,
and giving be
taking,
and for each,
the difference
is in the
seeking and releasing.
We send bottled messages
afloat, hopeful for
its accurate delivery
and offer what we desire
for burial at sea;
we collect treasures
and look for clues
from gods and mermaids
Destiny-strewn.
I notice in the wet sand
in between surf’s blanketing,
a secret passageway,
a ladder to dreams,
unless, of course,
it’s an evil illusion,
a detour or trap
set by opposing forces.
I wonder
how much
is serendipity
and divine intervention
verses taking control
and free will’s actions,
if choosing the evanescent
option not on the maps
is a test of fortitude
or foolish brassiness.
Another option,
nonetheless, is presented:
two piers to walk,
but only one may
have no end.
Poem and images by Laura Denise
Not a beanstalk,
but it might as well be,
magic seeds
sprouting the way
to giant dreams,
and in the center,
a sunbeam
passes through
a hole in a leaf
purposefully
to reach me,
or is it simply that light
is at the center
of all belief?
Insignificant
the manmade pier seems,
foolishly leading
horizontally…
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
Sunset-lit pier
fades from focus
as the miniature shell-bridge
draws me closer
and gets me thinking…
about what we extend
in our reach to connect,
and what we retract
when we fear-react,
and all that’s gained
and lost from the taking
and passing of chance,
from the courage
to not or to
act,
and how far the distance
can be misjudged from perspective,
and in the grand scheme of things,
how important it is,
and how often we miss
and what we learn
when we look up
or bow our heads
to discern
the difference.
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
Less than two dollars.
Never richer.
Sometimes, I
prefer the blur,
the softness,
of out of focus,
where it all becomes
muted and fuses
with the natural horizon,
and even my femininity,
graceful and soft-spoken,
has a voice among the hushes,
my lyrics freed but the language
not audible or of this world,
for it is my soul who recognizes
this celestial light befalling before
the sun bids us adieu, never
resting, only sharing itself with
others too, as this speck of a
planet shifts, and upon
this ray, I lay this kiss
to be sweetly
delivered
to you.
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
The sea oats
have grown tall;
I let them
skim my palm,
feel the tickles
gifted from heaven
as the sea’s soul
is orchestra lifted
above the tides
of this earth
to scoop me up
with open arms
into the surf.
I offer all I’ve brought
to sacrifice to God,
releasing the heavy,
releasing the pain,
hoping the ghosts
will choose escape
as I make it more
uncomfortable
to haunt these
inner spaces
tarnished, turning gold
from the light
of love
joining the soul’s.
My feet sink
in the warm silk
as my heart,
with you inside,
even more
fills.
Buoyant become
the weights
as the shackles and chains
give way
to become part
of the dark, watery
grave.
Today, I take
back my life.
Today the curse,
I unwind.
Wet feet,
sand clinging,
I walk back
and through my fingers,
the sea oats feel
the difference
as the sun
awakens,
rises to kiss
me so gently
once
again….
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Winds to be reckoned with
do more than make waves;
all evidence of human existence
is entirely without-trace erased.
Reset is the playing field.
Wiped clean, the slate.
Denied are the attempts
to leave any more prints.
The only impressions saved
are those upon the heart.
Is your legacy of love
enough to advance
to the next
start?
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
With wide-opened arms,
I offer myself
again to the sea,
double-red flag at the
abandoned beach
and in me.
I give it all to God
who takes it up
with the wind,
wild waves
rush up from within.
Benevolent powers
remind me
who I am
and what I’m capable of
in this lifetime chance
when He is inside me
like He’s always been,
and all of nature,
my lifelong friends.
The beach itself
is rippled clean,
new slate
on which to imprint
the path
He leads,
another first step
into the trust
of His plan,
the next leg of a journey
to lead me even closer
to where He is at.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Rough week. Double red flags waving. The bay wilder than the ocean. It called me home. Here’s to the ones in the throes of it. Let’s relight ourselves. Again.
I give my light freely,
but sometimes it is taken,
emotional perpetrators
breaching my innermost spaces.
They underestimated
my strength
and did again
today,
for as long as there
is the sea and my God,
I will raise my arms
in faith;
you will never
keep me down
as long as there
are waves and rays.
I will wash
what you left
away.
You underestimated
our strength.
Laura Denise 