
I am still faithfully following
petals as paths
with my soul’s whispered directions
to where you are at,
the one to reciprocate
all this love I have,
and along the way,
I’ve grown to love
the way
I am.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Poet. Writer. Photographer.

I am still faithfully following
petals as paths
with my soul’s whispered directions
to where you are at,
the one to reciprocate
all this love I have,
and along the way,
I’ve grown to love
the way
I am.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Across the street from the ocean,
I reside,
at my everyday disposal
are the almighty tides,
the aquahorizon
with no opposite end
that blends with the sky,
no greater reminder
of the bigger picture
beyond this life,
and it does indeed
soul-energize,
but I’ve always known
the humility
of how insignificant we are:
I seek instead
the intimate inner warmth
I find crouched among
the non-garden flowers
inspecting the finest details
neglected and trodden,
and through my lens and art,
I depict how they feed
my heart,
shared roots and seeds
organically free
yet universally tied,
turning our faces
peacefully
to the shared light,
the Higher Power
who sculpted us both, all,
with intention and without
society-judged flaws,
precision in individuality,
every living piece
lovingly kneaded,
and when the rays
find and kiss petals,
this is the beauty
that stills me
breathless,
to see in crafted detail
the miracles of His Creation
and how love was meant
to prevail in every season.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

The sky is not
the limit
but the start;
the sun
never sets,
just lends
its rays west
and the stage
to the stars.
Wildflowers cannot
be weeded if
they sprout
from the heart;
you cannot stop mine
from rising beyond
the highest heights
of love.

Amidst the thorns,
beneath the wounds,
we can take turns
bringing self-love
to bloom,
we’ll smooth
the edges
so raw and jagged,
each lend the silk
of virgin petals
birthed in kisses
and gentle touches,
countering the poisonsÂ
of previous “gardeners”
with ill-intentions,
fencing us fromÂ
freedom.
We’ll remain
faithful companions,
take turns in the cycle
of taking and giving,
in sun and shadow,
through every internal
season and weathered vane.
We’ll simply heal
and learn
what love is,
together
the right way
until we both
blossom white,
centers exposed
to feelÂ
the cleansingÂ
rain.Â
Love willÂ
beget love
which willÂ
beget love
to spread.
It begins
with us.
It beginsÂ
within.Â


Poem and images ©LauraDenise







With the enchanted key
of my irises,
I slowly turn the handle
leading to the secret garden
that I will landscape with my lenses.
I gather and paint in my mind
a glorious Eden
made from what February offers:
bright daylilies and sun to burst
my heart open at its seams.
I will visit this created place of dreams
eternally!

It’s been sunny and seventies, and the seasons
have not so much been confused
as they have been seemingly
just leisurely mingling, amused,
some stalling, some joyfully letting go;
nothing in the South rushes though.
Like melting cubes of ice in tea,
we take it sweet and slow down here.
It tickles me pink to have the mix
sprinkling personal messages so clear.
Today started differently,
gray with a bit of nip in the air.
Certain trees partaking in autumn
are almost now bare,
covering the patio in a bland
blanket over stone,
which made the flowers
I did not grow
even more the focal point
of my windowed soul.
I smiled for how they have become
so deeply rooted in my journey.
Marking my heart’s pages,
so many petals and leaves held so dearly,
imprinting with their colors and scents
my most powerful untold stories.
I sat among the pink today
to have the rest fade away,
mesmerized by the world within,
tracing with eyes each leaf and stem.
Concerns abandonedÂ
in the face of trichomes;
transfixed am I
under nature’s hold.
I visit the center,
greet the stamens;
they let me hide out
in the silken cavern.Â
Next I intentionally slip
into the labyrinth of green
and lose myself
for as long as I wishÂ
to be unseen.Â
This is how I restore
when I give too muchÂ
of me to the world.


















Single drops of mindfulness,
nothing exists but the rain
in molecules suspended,
clinging to the present,
an amnesia of pain.


Reflections of the now
that surround as pieces
to the whole,
the tiniest spider
inside a flower
a single strand of silk
webbing hope.

The world does not stand still,
it simply dissolves;
even the blazing sunset
ensconces in a single leaf
fallen.


Sometimes peace
is too big of a thing
to be able to grasp onto,
and so nature scatters
daily treasures
for us to collect
as truths,
trinkets for lockets
to garnish hearts
with intended protection
when the showers
feel drowning
and the sunsets
remind too much
of losses.
There is simply beauty
in this moment
offered as solace:
hone your sight
to find and focus on
that instant of inner
silence.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Hibiscus past prime,
creation divine,
chrysalis of love
hatched, released
into the light.
Intricate shell
fossilizes secrets;
sometimes what’s
left behind is all
the epitaph needed.

I let myself be
in my own secret garden
the one whose touch blooms
