Uneditingly Brave

What if
we didn’t edit
but left
everything
the way
in which
we were blessed
with it,
the highlights
disputably the
highs in light,
the shadows
lovingly interweaved,
the bridges
sometimes camouflaged
or only revealed
to the one
meant to
see;
what if the walk
is intentionally
neverending
with boardwalks
to deter us
from fully
exploring
the depths of
the offerings,
the possibilities
of meeting
the ones we are meant to
and the ones by chance,
and what if those
are unfathomably unravelable
in free will, fate, and
happen-
stance…?

Breathing Light

I wish
in my towering height,
bloom stretched
to the beautiful sky,

only to
bear seeds,
to take hold
inside of you
on this breath
of love’s breeze.

Among your shadows,
I yearn
to sprout
to devour
all choking
self-doubts

and leave
your soul
to bleed
only in white.

I wish to feed you
my excess
light.

Rain Drop On The Ledge

Rain drop clings…
no, loosens
its grip
on purpose
on the precipice
of letting go

in full faith
of what lies ahead,
intentional free fall
into a freedom
this heart
will indeed
know…

no photo taken,
but some moment-drips
live eternally
within…

Let’s do this.
Into the inkwell,
to write the next chapter,
I dip my nakedness and
begin…

Immersing in Moments

Later, soon, tomorrow…
always risky
putting off
what the heart
longs to sing,
to say…
our lights, eternal,
but earthtime measured
in sand and dust
and strings Atropos cuts,
footprints tide-washed away.
So let’s stop
and sit awhile,
my friend.
How have you been?
Kettle whistles,
Columbian grounds,
deep sofa,
phones down.
Let’s wrap ourselves
in the comfort
of the softest colors
of love,
quilting our story.

Let’s stay too long.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Please, Serenity

Just when I am about
to touch the peace,
the Soul of Serenity
seems to each time tease,

its soft light and floral scent
dissipating into floating ripples
until it again becomes another
path of reverie revealed.

But I am getting weary.
Let me hold you, dear
Soul of Serenity.

Dome us in this
place of paradise;
turn the rest to ripples
kept in limbo
for a while.

©LauraDenise

Overbloomed

Overbloomed, drooped,
raised head falls
into yesterday’s tears
pooled.

Waiting, weighted,
to regroup.
Have faith.
Whether or not
growing gets blocked
at the top and the
root.

The Gardener
has no flesh
to wear gloves,
but His hands
will cup and lift
to transplant
with love.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Forever Nested

Empty nest
discourages sadness,
too beautifully woven
with flowered wild grasses,

nostalgic strands of the past
leave the heart
to imagination,
a reminder that love remains
behind in every season,

as well as the next:
from eggs come wings
to independence
to touch for oneself
the clouds’ edges.

Home, they say,
is where the heart is,
and a part of my heart
flies with you and will
beyond this world’s
and life’s limitations…

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Hummingbird At The Pane

My heart sighed,
the exhale combined
with the incoming uplifting
screened spring breeze;

despite the birdsong,
my eyes welled up,
as I began to walk into
Sadness’s alluring stream…

But my nature friends
and forces always seem
to intervene!

To my pane came
a hummingbird who hovered
until I forgot
all of my soul’s woes

and again felt
Hope’s flutter
and the feeling
of not being
in this world
alone.

Despite it all,
life is truly beautiful
as long as there is
this Presence I feel
so connected to.

Cut me open. I don’t think
I will bleed.
I am sure
butterflies
will rise
out of me

and to the moon,
my essence return,
merging light
to warmly glow
in a belonging
forever.

Hollowed

The pull of the day,
of the years,
of everyone’s needs
leaves shadows
and cavities
from ebb’s
never-ending
taking,
but the sun’s
reflection
warms me
in oranges,
and the glow
stays.
The light
one way
or another
will
illuminate,
independent of
ever reaching
that haunted,
hollowed
space.

Umbrellaless On Purpose

Moments drip
drop, first
molecules
floating
to fall,
and when
the basin
is filled,
our time
is up.

Let me taste
each one
individually
upon my
upturned
mouth.

May I spend
the least
amount
in flood
or drought,
paned,
sheltered
or drowned.

Let me feel
it all
though;
to offer an umbrella
or call me inside
is to deny me
each elixir dose
to my soul’s life.

Moments
shared
with others,
even fleeting
in passing,
make up
the ocean
of emotion
that fills and
propels me
most deeply.

When the last sun sets,
I know I cannot take
any drops with
even though they became a part
of my very composition,
but heaven is in the clouds
for a reason,
and I believe from these
drops within,
another birthing
will begin…