One Bloom

Sometimes we can light
another’s candle
from the light
of our very soul,
and sometimes
it only takes
one bloom
refusing to fold
to awaken
the world.

Words and image ©LauraDenise

Too Early to Title

Are you here?
You’ve been searching,
collecting clues;
perhaps this segment
of sea will weed or
reveal identity truths.

Just you here
and your mind.
What do you carry?
What have you
left behind?

Look about.
Family. Strangers.
One in the same.
Or entirely different?

Who has come
to search,
and what for?
Who will leave
with less,
with more?

So many shells,
filled and hollow.
So many opportunities
made and lost
among people.

Memories can be made.
Promises broken.
Second chances given.
Losses counted.

Each drop significant,
each drop matters,
though so vast is
the ocean’s water.

Water is one,
a singular thing.
We don’t count drops
until we are thirsty.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Soft Impressions

Let me walk
with you awhile,
whether or not you
lend me your shoes
for a mile.

In fact, let’s both
take them off
and leave them here
as we surf the shore,

finding naturally
the treasures
within us each,
bare feet
on common
shifting grounds
equally.

One set of footprints
in the sand
they say is when
we are carried by Him,

but in the interim
let me be the second
impressions alongside yours,
for in this world
we all need sometimes
to see the touch
so longed for.

We don’t need to hold hands.
We don’t need to even speak.
Let’s just walk together awhile
in the comfort of kindred company.

And should you be here again tomorrow,
maybe we could exchange shoes for a mile.
And should you come back at our planned time,
maybe for a bit, we could leave our shells behind.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Sometimes The Heavens

Sometimes the heavens
seem to shout
without a sound,
send in golden tsunamis
to knock us out
of our sacrilegious head-bows,
hunched over the false light,
oblivious to whom is beside
let alone above.
Another tidal wave of wonder
crashes against an overpopulated shore
unheard and unseen
despite its colossal reminder
that we were not meant to be
islands caught up in the streams
on screens
of mind-numbing nonsense when
the caged spirits within
continue their deafening
pleases turned to pleas and
silent screams
to be released.
Our souls see
heaven’s reach,
but our eyes and minds
are locked
in self-imposed
escapism stagnancy.
And another stair to heaven
disappears, as the case
little by little,
shrinks.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Spring Frosting

Frosted silver-blue in spring
ushers in eucalyptus dreams.
I inhale the heavenly possibilities
wafted through my senses
and altering my inner being,
frosting me with the sweet
scents of what can be
and what can never be lost,
centuries of hope long ago
and perpetually seeded
that spring up each annual season
despite the body’s expiration
sacrificed for the birthing
of eternal angel wings.
Every heart’s whisper,
every tear that ever watered,
becomes a part of me,
as I am a part of each,
all of us connected,
evidenced in these
ambrosial eucalyptus
leaves.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Cobwebs Between Petals

Ninety-three million miles away,
yet upon the cobwebs of a flower,
Sol’s ray reaches, haloes, frames.

How powerful
that gentle, golden beam is
when it finds and reminds us our
insignificance

is more important and personal
than we think it to be,
for the Creator made sure
the cold and darkness
would always have
returning light and heat.

We are turned away each evening,
in a rotation beyond our control,
perhaps to make possible
the continuous rebirthing
of new-day gratitude and hope,

to make possible these moments
that universally lift up our gazes,
to freeze-frame and coat in gold
these nuggets of humble
beauty appreciation,

like cobwebs on a flower
that still me with revelation:
in the tapestry and labyrinth of life,
we are woven and connected
by hidden common thread,
and love could always,
then and now,
win.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Roots and Blooms

With a single spark
from my wild heart,
I sneakily reseed
a little yellow cheer
and carry on
my solo way,
planting the
little flames
to light the way
back to
love.

So if you see
the floral light,
pass it on
randomly,
be kind
to a stranger,
let’s try
to string
smiles,
no matter
how fleeting,
for the winter is
receding,
and the birds sing
of forgiveness,
of burying,
of remembering,

for in the decay
of leaves,
we can fertilize
the best parts
of memories,
and visit
the rest
at the graveyard
of past seasons;
the reasons
you cling to
that poison
your roots,
leave by the wayside
and mark the route.
Visit respectfully
but do not carry it
with you;
seeds were meant
for detaching,
and rebirthing
where they land
new blooms.