Poet. Writer. Photographer.
Shades of bright pink–magenta, fuchsia, cerise–through a sea of gray, peak,a reminder that soon it will be spring. In the shroud of fog and mistthat seems to perpetually persist, nature refuses to statically subsist;every cloud will again disperse or lift. Time was constructed with the condition of motion with clauses that require stages of hibernation;every living thing … Continue reading Seasons Within
Perhaps the only thing that can fully fill those spaces insideis the Light,yet for that soul-quenching, we keep lookingto the tide. Words and image ©LauraDenise
Dense fog advisory. Dark, early Saturday morning. Mild temperatures. A perfect time to... head to the beach! I make my coffee to go. I love fog and mist, as I do rain and thunderstorms...something about the mood of this kind of weather invigorates my soul. It is another clue in the discovery of my own … Continue reading Inside Clouds
The journey, they say, is in itself the key;I've been downevery wrong roadmultiple timesit seemed, but to surface, I wish I could say unscathed, with the treasure of mein this mirror now heldsacred, I'm hesitant to lay blameon my past,for who I amwas definitely shapedby every shadowed,obstacle-strewnpath, and the keythat ended up being mefits perfectlyinto the lockaround your heart; I … Continue reading The Journey
Out of body, I float through time, hover unaccompanied, no ghost as guide; nonetheless, through windows I peer,Dickens-paned, layered veneers.Yet in them, in those moments, the mise-en-scènes are still amiss–a faraway look, a laugh insincere, a single, silent unwitnessed tear–not necessarily sad, just adrift; have I never settled into my prints?My soul, a gypsy, but wishing to barter–tent for cabin, … Continue reading Window Shells
Revisiting cracked window scenesfrom my past,on my terms,in a controlled mental environment, I strip him of the victim persona,no, not persona...I believed him victimdeep withinsince as a boy, Addiction took hold. I wipe the filmfrom the glass,but it only smears more;I clean it properlyand reveal myselflooking out,eyeing the door. Only my hidden tearfrom that year … Continue reading Cleaning Windows
I am a champion of dandelions, so when I spotted the first one unseasonably early this year in January, it was meaningful to me. This "winter" along the Gulf Coast has been a wonderland for me despite the absence of snow. Summer flowers refused to fold, autumn arrived in December and passed yet lingers, some … Continue reading First Dandelion
I have mixed feelings about privacy fences. On one hand, they are divine to me because I am a private person. I used to think I was an extrovert; I would tell you that I was the life of any party. And in a way, that was and is still true. Because publicly, I am … Continue reading Fences
Upon the blue canvasof my dreams,I take hold of a brushand my destiny. Having painted atopa darker past, I choose the brightest huesand happiness. Never actually fatedto the dead-end path I was on, self-shackled, I eventually realizedthere were no locks, and the way I was livingreally upset my Father,but I thought the sacrificeswere what He wanted. Twice … Continue reading Blue Canvas
At the crossroadsagain,so I thought,the familiar loop trailI've been traversing upon, the path that intersectswith a hopeful other,but I've explored bothand all the countless others, round and round,and though the scenery is nice,I've been looking for somethingdifferent all of my life, not sure what,but I've always knownI'd know when I stumbled uponthe right way home, … Continue reading Off Trail
