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

Poet. Writer. Photographer.
I let myself be
in my own secret garden
the one whose touch blooms


toad-eye entrancement
needed memory-loss spell
forgetting those woes
Forlorn I was,
but Nature won’t have it
for long,
always intercepting,
knowing the sure-fire ways
to illicit my dimples;
this time,
in an unused planter,
my own fairy garden
to behold,

and if that wasn’t enough,
the realization
it was a family
portraying love.

Funny how I always see
the romance between
two fungi touching

and how there doesn’t seem
to be such a thing
as a mushroom
without the merry,
underfoot fairy
tales in toadstools,
though they wouldn’t actually hold
a toad unless they were magical,
but then again, I am the biggest
believer in that, after all…
unexpected growth
merry mushroom family
unplanted smile sprouts
Faithfully, my family
out-of-doors
takes care of me
whenever I start to feel
forlorn.

And my pup, of course.

Poems and images ©LauraDenise

I am not claiming to have a gift,
to be the one sought out
by enchanted beings,
but can anyone else see
the crab in the leaves
peering at me?
Clearly, he has a message,
to have crossed the busy street
from the beach;
does Titan need me
to immediately return to sea?
I hope all is well.
I get up close
to my crustacean friend.
I listen with my eyes
and take heart
to what he’s said…
misplaced habitat
red crab stares from the bushes
nets my attention

fragile unfurling
last raindrop evaporates
absorbed by love’s warmth
Poem and image ©LauraDenise

candle in the weeds
trying to reach and warm her
the flower still cold

silken single thread
nature’s web of life weaving
the dawns and seasons
Peace still exists:
it is in the stillness,
in the first soft light of
dawn’s shadow-displacement,
when the heavens descend
and dust creation
with a coat of gold
equally in every nation,
each new day, a gift
untainted,
like fresh snow’s
pure, printless blanket.
Peace is impervious
to extinction;
its persistent existence benignant
in perpetuum flourishing.
Peace needs not to be sought,
comes not in revelation;
it is in every detail
discreetly threading
this moment and the next
through seams that glisten.
Look closely for the evidence
that we are all connected.

amidst the fallen
sacrificial death of green
a seedshell opens
Against a hurricane-weathered fence
held up by a deeply-rooted meek tree,
as the southern seasons strive to change,
a branch extends a unique offering,
and in it, I naturally see…
the inspirational bravery
of opening up so vulnerably,
for beneath the protective shell
lies for another’s winter
the hope-story for spring.
If you are on IG, drop your link in the comments so we can all connect there, too!
Here is my post from today…

Sincere seeds
heart-harvested
naturally bloom
to sprinkle cheer
in discreet, little ways
that speak
volumes,
and the bouquet
never wilts,
remaining in the soil
of the soul
to regenerate
offshoots,
eternal growth.

All words and images on this site are ©LauraDenise

about and in me
acrylic and turpentine–
a mix of seasons
Poem and image ©LauraDenise