Perhaps The Storms

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.

Mythological Growths

Cycloptic serpent
scorched deep
into my being,
color of decay
not even attempting
to camouflage
into my resilient green,
laying eggs,
disease breeding,
growing larger,
but still unable
to see,
for at my core
is also my heart,
and it bleeds
in light.
You try
to grow more eyes,
but this love
inside
will always
render you
blind,
not Karma
but what is right
finally
for I have falsely seen
too clearly
all my life

your lies.

The exorcist has arrived:
self-love.
Parasite,
good final bye.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

December Pinks

The pink blooms I never planted
are more beautiful than ever
as I return rejuvenated
to the patio in December.

Autumn has rained
its traditional hues too;
warmth in the setting sun
dries a wet spell of the blues.

I am tickled by the message
of the southern bell for whom it tolls,
waking the possibilities in me
of choosing the way it goes.

I’ll keep growing these pink blooms
even if they get winter-taken,
for I’ve reseeded in my heart
a season of hope to never end.

Somewhere Along the Way

I suppose somewhere
along the way, 
this became 
about me, 
this once person
conditioned
to inwardly
mistreat,
neglect, 
bury
prematurely
at sea,

too busy
keeping them
afloat
in puddles,
sacrificing my soul
for others, 

in the lows 
between lowers
in that life
unstable,
vows before God
to remain 
(abusive) spouse faithful,

the escape-clause
contingencies blurred,
repercussions lingering 
in the years after,

children ten years apart,
and always children,
I keep on 
giving,
Silverstein tree 
down to the trunk,
instead of remaining
to be sat upon,
I leave my roots
to carry on,

re-sprouting from
acorns and seeds
to reach the end
of land
as a sunflower, 
brazen yet desperate,
in the sand
to be plucked
by a youthful hand

and sprinkled
into the surf
for the mermaids 
to collect 
and bring to the site
of where I left
myself
and resurrect 

from Davy Jones’ Locker
the Heart of the Sea
still alive
in its keeper:
me. 

The ducks and swans
gather to greet
at the pond
where I used to
weep. 

Donned now
in floral dresses
and locks
long enough 
to dance freely 
with the breeze, 
(he always said
neither looked good
on me…)
the reflection I see
is another plot twist
in my ongoing story

with an ending
yet to be written 
but full of God’s 
golden glory,
His daughter’s strength 
ever-growing. 

Somewhere along the way, 
somehow this did become
about me. 
Another struggle lifted,
another soulful healing. 

In the setting sun,
I reflect upon the journey
and look so forward
to the fulfilling
of my legacy.

I will never drown,
for you can only
hold me down
so long, 
years but moments
in the eternity 
of dawn. 

Hope unconditionally
floats
from the buoyancy 
of love. 

This is my story, 
long overdue 
to be 
self-sung.

I actually do like to sing those soulful songs.
(He always changed the station if I even began to hum…)

Undam Me

It is the red-flagged waves, 
the storm sirens, 
that wake who I’ve been
for centuries dormant; 
arms by themselves stretch, 
welcome, open, 
remembering the calling,
my true name on the cusp
of being unspoken,
on the cusp of the crescent, 
my dreams dangled,
the cusp of my heart 
releasing the rush withheld, 
on the cusp of my emergence
from the cocoon that protects
the self. I am not afraid!
May these waves finally break
this manmade dam
and reveal once and for all
who I am! 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Sea Dance

Barefoot atop the deep waters,
white dress and wild tresses flowing,
sunken-ship cemetery of the past beneath,
I twirl in this present moment. 

The sea is mine
as my dance floor,
and I skim across 
to my pick of shores;
I explore, I vacation, 
not searching, just jubilation
of losing
worries and fears,
exaltation of the lightness
of the lifting of those stormy years,
each moment an eternity
to get to the next,
each stepping stone
sinking with each vine grasped,
no beanstalk discovered
to bring me to the clouds,
only faith each day
for decades
of a better tomorrow.

That tomorrow is today,

hence the head-raised dance
in the sun and in the rain,
embracing with wide-opened arms
the achievement of having started
upon this horizon
I only viewed from the beach.

The stepping stones still sink.
I just realized the only missing factor
was to fully 

believe.

They were never needed. 
Self-love was the only key.

I was always worth it. 
Eventually, I fought
for me
and this
dream.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

The Tiller

Trust in the shadows;
they are benevolent too,
dimming the wrong ways
so the beacon may shine through.

Listen for the truth;
it whispers faithfully through the gale.
Turn your back to the blustery lies;
the bitterest of winds best fill the sails.

You don’t need a map
for an evacuation route;
just follow the signs
He’s already laid out.

He knows all,
including what’s up ahead.
Listen for The Light;
drown out the ghost voices
haunting your head.

You took the steps.
You left that land.
These turbulent waters
will lead to the end

of that decades-long storm
that shredded every kite you raised
that lightning struck
on its way down
to reiterate
that you will never
be freed from this fate.

But fate was a falsity
and now you will know
that destiny
is all within
your control,

and He wants you to have
all your heart desires.
He will lead you there
through these uncharted waters,

but He wants your hands
on the tiller
to feel
the power you have
that He instills.

He calls upon the winds
and every fin in the sea
to escort you on your voyage to
your chosen dreams.

Poems and photos ©LauraDenise

Building a Good Day

Happy Sunday!

It’s a good morning.

Because I have the amazing blessing of deciding how I fill my day. What a gift. What freedom. What power. What will I select from the generous menu to construct this day?

First, I choose mental and emotional peace. What brings me balance? Writing. Nature. God. Companionship. I have all of those at hand daily and indulge in them all daily. The absence of any one throws me off my axis. In the absence of a significant other, I am full from the companionship of a dear friend.

Second, I choose work. Whether it’s my paid career or just the endless chores to maintain a small home and large yard, I need to be productive, contribute, do good work and feel good about the results.

Errands and personal business matters on the other hand…YUCK! I despise that. I always procrastinate and dread adulting in those matters. Maybe it’s the creative in me that is tortured by such free-spirit-sucking monotonous tasks. I’ll clean my own house, do my own yardwork, but for sure would hire a personal assistant for that other stuff. Including shopping of any kind. (Shudder.)

After internal stability and productive work, I need to fill my heart daily with love and laughter. I am a lover by nature, so that is not hard. A little cuddling of a pup, a little interaction with humans I love, a little reading of heartstring-pulling writing, and I’m full.

Laughter is tricky, too easy to forget to add. You usually need another for that (even when I crack myself up, it comes from messaging a friend). You need another to make you laugh, whether on hand in person or digitally or from something funny created by another: memes, jokes, humorous writing, sitcoms, etc. Laughter is simply one of the best parts of life. Let’s never forget to put effort into including it!

Well, those are the morning thoughts. Today is a new day. I can largely make it what I want it to be. Thank you, God, for that gift and blessing and freedom and power. I hope I am making you proud by becoming, embracing, loving who you made me, who you made me to be.

I’m off to start my yard work. Make it a great day, readers!

❤️ Laura

whenyousurroundyourselfwithbeauty(☝️From my picture quotes I used to do. That’s my daughter, when she was younger. 💕)