Poet. Writer. Photographer.
Just when I am about
to touch the peace,
the Soul of Serenity
seems to each time tease,
its soft light and floral scent
dissipating into floating ripples
until it again becomes another
path of reverie revealed.
But I am getting weary.
Let me hold you, dear
Soul of Serenity.
Dome us in this
place of paradise;
turn the rest to ripples
kept in limbo
for a while.
©LauraDenise
Beside them the birds of the heavens dwell; they sing among the branches.
Psalm 104:12
Emerging from tepals,
I simply listen
to the birds’
morning songs
before the wakening
and bustle
of the world
in which we both
belong,
before the sun itself
beats its rays down;
thank you, Lord,
for the gradual
transitions
and living Psalms.
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
If hope is “the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul”
and never stops singing,
even in the storms,
then faith is knowing
the branch will never break,
that no matter the opposing forces,
the twig will remain,
no what ifs
or backup plans
just in case:
the twig will remain
for hope’s unwavering
refrain,
for even if hope
has the wings to withstand,
all things with feathers
need a place
to land.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/42889/hope-is-the-thing-with-feathers-314
Poem and image ©LauraDenise (Quoted line by Emily Dickinson)
Perhaps the storms
are simply meant
to rouse our inner
empowerment,
faraway rumbles
culminating
into the now,
waking from hibernation
the reminder
of the how,
for fate is passive
sitting ducks,
and destiny
the arms
in the winds
resurrecting
the self up,
believing in the achieving
part of dreams,
rousing the soul
to with that single bird,
despite the conditions,
sing.
I dance in the rain,
and the bird
wishes it
were me;
we chat about exchanging
wings and feet
but decide each are intentionally
meant to propel,
and here we are together
celebrating freedom
from cage and cell.
or maybe
a heart
and dream
simply
complexly
ebb and flow
into a
de s t i n y
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
rarest of blooms
most healing petals
soft-celestial light
floating soul-candle
eventually extinguished
by the river
no hand
would chance
getting burned
~L.D.
rainy day
on the pains
yet i can’t stop
feeling the drops
on my face
window drips
sill puddles
i could close
it all
but my soul
would still bubble
up until it
bursts out
to expel
the swallowed err
of doubt
~LD
sometimes a heart
simply wants more
than any other heart
can give
sometimes a dream
no matter the nurturing
must wilt
despite its will
to live
i think i may have
such a heart
and dream
does it make me flawed
or Gypsy-Heart Queen?
~L.D.
One by one,
I pluck the thorns
barbed-wiring my heart in;
obstacle after obstacle
I surmount to prove
that love
will win.
Naturally, the plucks
unclog also the ducts
that keep the dammed rain
bayed,
but that doesn’t mean
the salt will wilt
the bloom who’s too far
on its way….
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
no knock
no ring
empty doorstep
no one
yet to
come for
me
for rent
evolves
to sold
vacancies
of the heart
not yet
home
Laura Denise 