Four Seasons (Four Haiku)

choking vine pierces
peering into window pains
drains the last color

ember of strength flares
colors of chested dreams surge
from the inside paints

momentum floods up
the courage to turn away
and spread self-love’s wings

the greatest fear yet
overcome when exposing
the heart once again

Did you know I post my photo haiku daily to Instagram? This is today’s. https://www.instagram.com/bylauradenise 

Hearts and Wings

I have been absolutely entranced and obsessed with the changing eucalyptus leaves in my backyard. I pass a lot of time observing and listening to them through my lens. I know the poetry each one heart-strums inside me, but no words could ever do these images justice. I will let the poetry speak directly to you instead, for so personal and intimate to me are what these leaves and tree portray… I hope you can see and hear it, too, as it pertains to you. ❤  

Forever is the Sunrise

Forever is the moment 
that stills me
when everything
is swirling inside
my heart, my soul, 
my mind…

Forever is the moment
that absolves me,
that nature bestows,
head bowed or not,
heart knotted or atoned. 

Forever is the moment
that holds me
so personally close,
the rays extended
to touch 
with warmth. 

Forever is the moment
that soaks me, 
in waves that rebirthe
or ripples that trickle
to my inner caverns

where I buried
the treasure
of me 
in a chest of fear,
where only the mermaids
are entrusted 
with the key
shaped from 
my tears. 

Forever is the moment
I carry with me
in every moment
I am away
from the sea. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Glimpses

I thought I saw a glimpse
of angel wings

with one tear clinging, 

or maybe it was my imagination 
or my dream

realized, or so I thought, 
for in that fleeting brush
and drop,

a celestial 
crystal ball 
of truths; 

after all, 
I write 
my own future, 

and sometimes the signs
are only meant to be

clues

only detectable 
in the listening 
of the vision 

within 
that flutters
when the white wings 
whisper, pay

a visit,
ironically when I turn 
quickly, 

situationally maybe
when I come to find

I am 
the gift

yet to be
collected.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Chambers

Some chambers
of the heart
cannot be revived,
but somehow, in time,
the others manage
to thrive,
filling in with extra
color and light,
like fall delicately
preserved despite
the returning of spring,
some things
simply adapt inside,
like a damaged heart
that syncs
to another’s beat,
incapable of replacing
or restoring that part
but giving new life
to a deserved and beautiful
heart.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Pursuit of the Bloom

Thinning tightrope, 
teetering plank:
I’ve walked them both.
I’ve fallen.
I’ve sank.

Tentacles brushing,
shadows lurking,
up the stalk, 
through the Valley of Thorns,
relentlessly clambering. 

Holes in the boards
opening and closing,
disguised as light, 
trap doors
back to start
heartlessly sending.

The invisible bridge 
always glistening 
against Defeat’s whispers
in the first rays each morning,

fleeting, only sustainable by faith
and a resolute spirit’s strength.

Maybe today
will be the day
A thought repeated
over decades…  

Finally achieved
and coming slowly into color,
the self I sacrificed
when I was younger. 

Some are late bloomers.
Some are reborn. 
Some never learn
self-love’s importance. 

Never is the climb
nor crossing required, 
only the belief
you are worthy
the way you are

of Sun’s kiss, too:
all that was ever needed
to bloom… 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Resilient Hearts

I am NOT a gardener.
Though a gardener I’ve never tried to be…
Every natural wonder I’ve ever encountered
has been there before me, 
remnants from previous tenants’ tastes
and sculptures wild and free
lovingly planted in my path
by the Creator Almighty
and meant at the time of discovery
to be the personal messages needed. 

And so it is with my hibiscus pinks, 
cut down to the ground by the men
so they could build a fence more easily. 
Flowers dear to me for the way they so faithfully
after such meaningful moments took turns blooming
to mark the milestones in my healing,
to commemorate the special blessings,
to symbolize with such humble beauty
the changing seasons within me. 

In the soft, golden morning rising sun, 
they lift themselves again to greet me. 
Not defiantly. Just filled with inspiration. 
An example. A reunion. A smiling. 
I approach and spend some moments 
I do not have according to clock and duty. 
The buds seem from an extra-long green
hibernation to be defrosting, thawing.  
I know what lies inside. The knowing
denies mystery but does not anticipation-impede.

My heart does indeed too beat again,
my dear friends. 
They can never cut short
our aspiring stories. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise