Chain Links

Withering weed
behind chain-link fence
produces the illusion
of being defenseless,

unable to escape
to freedom,
but the thing
about dandelions
is the way God made them,

for big are the dreams
they are charged with,
but it is in their breaking apart
into pieces that launches

these seeds of more
to be rebirthed elsewhere,
carried protectively upon benevolent breeze
and prayer

in different directions
better for us,
for when dead ends surround,
the ways are through
or up,

toward The Light,
and wing-bathed in hope,
blind-ride flight right through
the wide-open holes,

or one cracked window…

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Untitled

We can be nothing,
label-free,
defying definition,
and be
everything.

Come fly
with me,
fear not
the fall;
we never have
to land at all.

We’ll rise,
we’ll dip,
we’ll plummet,
we’ll soar,

sun-singe our wings
and touch
the ocean floor.

Bubble Dreams

Dangerous to dream, I know.
Foolish to fly in a bubble!
Either could burst
without notice,
drop you fast in a plummet
to the hard reality surface.

But what if…

the trajectory was directed
by angels’ breaths
and the bubble made impenetrable,
a shield only able to be
forged from the past,
and you were gently lowered
precisely as intended
by the benevolence
of your higher power
assisting you in the navigation
toward your heart’s
deepest and purest desire?
What if the bubble
met passion’s fire?
And in the ashes
two phoenixes rose
and began new life
and left behind
all the rainbows
found in bubbles?

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Ascension

I used to foolishly attempt

to trek around

the storms

to avoid them,

but the weather comes

regardless…

Eventually, I learned

some you must simply

forge through

and get it over with…

But then I remembered

the times upon

aluminum wings

I’ve flown,

and how the storms

appear the ceiling

only to those below.

It took a long while,

but I finally grew

wings of my own

and apply that lesson,

simply soar above

many of the dark clouds,

slip into that

blue-loophole

ascension…

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Where It Soars

Freedom of the spirit,

the release of the heart,

lies within us all

in that potential-spark;

beneath the scars,

wrapped in chains,

the whisper persists

guarded by brain,

but only the heart

knows the direction,

can guide the way,

to authentic ever-after.

Hear the fear

to track its source.

Defeat the wraith.

Uncage the heart

and follow where it

soars.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Pilot

I decide

where and when

I go

next.

I’ve always had wings

but never realized

I, alone,

am the pilot.

Flight

The flock of birds that appeared during the rising of the song I was listening to on my morning walk really moved me…

Love, music, nature

all seem to strum the same inner strings,

playing different chords, forming

melodies that make the heart hum

and the soul sing.

As the birds in formation burst forth to meet the sun,

so my heart and soul leap up to follow,

but this body, for now, keeps my core anchored,

like a planet with a burning center

that longs to flow,

free.

Buds & Cocoons

Buds and cocoons

can only contain

our potential for so long;

sooner or later,

we must bloom,

our colors don,

feel the rain

and the sun

upon petals and wings

and believe

that when we emerge,

love will be

waiting…

Upward Strokes

Upward strokes

of cloud-wisps,

a contrail

left as an ephemeral gift,

fading and floating away

but calling attention,

flaunting evidence

of launched heart-wishes,

sky wishies

taking flight,

one dreamer

setting out to find

what it desperately desires,

or perhaps nothing more

than having the foolish courage

to transcend boundaries and

explore.

The upward strokes

brushed upon the canvas

give hope,

for there are no edges,

no frame,

no conclusion,

where they reach,

unknown,

and I, too,

want to go…