sometimes a heart
simply wants more
than any other heart
can give
sometimes a dream
no matter the nurturing
must wilt
despite its will
to live
i think i may have
such a heart
and dream
does it make me flawed
or Gypsy-Heart Queen?
~L.D.
Poet. Writer. Photographer.
sometimes a heart
simply wants more
than any other heart
can give
sometimes a dream
no matter the nurturing
must wilt
despite its will
to live
i think i may have
such a heart
and dream
does it make me flawed
or Gypsy-Heart Queen?
~L.D.
One by one,
I pluck the thorns
barbed-wiring my heart in;
obstacle after obstacle
I surmount to prove
that love
will win.
Naturally, the plucks
unclog also the ducts
that keep the dammed rain
bayed,
but that doesn’t mean
the salt will wilt
the bloom who’s too far
on its way….
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
no knock
no ring
empty doorstep
no one
yet to
come for
me
for rent
evolves
to sold
vacancies
of the heart
not yet
home
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
Injury to the heart
forever alters the beat:
weeping wounds, scar tissue,
yet a chamber still
sings…
Words and image ©LauraDenise
I am fueled by storms
and coastal wind
as I raise my arms to each
and channel them
until empowerment rises
boldly from within…
But it is in the still
and minute,
in the soft scent
of beautiful,
in the trust of subtle,
the barely discernible,
that I feel the forgotten
soothed,
those buried-alive
non-truths;
the golden elixir single ray
finding the torn petal
coats in those places
I am not able to ever reach
on my own.
Up close and personal
is the only way I know
to heal my heart,
to feed my soul,
and that, I believe,
is the path that leads
home.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Looking out my bedroom window
a long while, late on a spring day,
opposite weather inside of me,
a seductive swirling veil of gray,
to choose which to follow,
if either non-path at all,
takes the breaking of the trance
when both come so subtly to call.
I didn’t wait for the new day;
I chose the remainder at hand,
clipped the leash to the too-excited dog,
laced my sneakers and simply began.
I let a trickle of hope in
on the way to the pond
to stir the stagnant layer
hovering weightless
but still clouding
my heart.
Perhaps I could find
beauty or love or both
in my always-open lens
that filters and feeds
light to soul.
I did. For it is always there.
Mother Nature never folds
her extended arms;
She unconditionally heals,
cares.
I knew a new day
would soon come
tomorrow,
and all would
feel better again,
but the thing about
choice and action is
that Momentum
can also be a dear
friend.
I did not wait for New Day.
I drank the sunset medicine instead.
It brought me soft romance
and a happy non-end.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Full moon
still hides
parts of itself
from view.
Wildflowers
don’t always feel
like opening
up to bloom.
Not all
birdsongs
can be
cheerful tunes.
Stars may not
get to every
wish they accrue.
Some days
the water
vapor is unable
to make itself
cloud-plumes.
Seasons
of the heart
insist a sunny poet
take a respite
in the shade,
but earth shifts
and turns
and always brings
another new day.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
White wings keep beating
when the heart and soul
begin to dim or slow.
Wings do not know
loss of hope.
Let wings carry you
until strength
and faith
regrow.
Let me be
those wings
for a while, for a leg
of the way
home…
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
Sometimes a heart clings
to a fragment of green
dream as its wings begin
the dying.
I thought it was
a butterfly.
Perhaps butterflies
are dreams reincarnated
in another life,
for those who feared
the letting go
to reach
the height.
Poem and image ©LauraDenise