Tears Dry (With Audio)

tears dry
like rain subsides
weather a part of nature
designed with intent
by our Creator

feelings, emotions
love and joy
despair and heartache
all part of what
deems us alive

would you trade it all in
for numbness instead?

if you already did
what could bring you back
from the breathing-dead?

perhaps a lot of it
comes from our own doing
and neglect

how many times we must
get in the way of His plans!

His plans for each
never carved in stone
I do not believe
for fate takes away free will
and free will shackles and frees

these pains must too
have a purpose
maybe more than a force
forming us

these tragedies…
who is to say
the why until
it is revealed one day

it is the blind eye
that is turned
rather than the cheek

that I think each
must explain
for admittance
through the gates

will He play back the footage
what will He deem as the highlights
will they match with what we think
we’ve done to please with our lives?

tears dry
like rain subsides
even the sky
cries sometimes

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Gray Plague

Gray Plague

Part choice, part determination
it seems to be
to avoid the extermination
while still living
caused by the loss
of feeling
when we fall
into that state
of complacency,
the dangerous hibernation
of our dreams,
the steps we take
turning our back
on the way
it could be,
should be…

It’s not easy
to keep the gray
from taking
our colors.
We fade,
part victim,
part converter;
we don’t sell
our souls,
we give them
now away
in exchange
for tickets
to nowhere
but in that gray
for longer,
to remain.

I feel the pull
of the evolution
of the devil,
the camouflaged
minions, the demons
no longer with arms
now casting spells.

I feel the brush,
the tickle of tentacle;
to kick it off
takes more than will.
Too many sleepers
not getting taken
but tricked into nonthinking
by the sweet song of sirens.

I climb the mountain
and expectedly find
the gray shadow
spreading like

I wrap my limbs
around my colors
and flee to find
my favorite
awake other.

Together, we embrace,
not in fear
but as survivors
thankful for
our non-superpowers.

We will not
to the non-fate
of the others
who gave freely away
one by one
each of their

We will keep painting
on life’s canvas
to preserve
hope and beauty
with each
brush of our breath,

not with fire,
but signaling
with bright hues
to the others
who may be out there still

Ultimately, this poem originated from reading a dear WP friend’s poem and listening to a song he posted (which I shared above). (If you are not connected with Ivor Steven, then your life is not as bright as it could be because the light of his soul shines like none other.) Ivor’s poem captures, despite the melancholy mood from the song, a wonderful moment––a pastry, a poem reading, a friendly unmasked smile. Simple. Yet everything really.

This Present


Yesterday, yesteryears

are taken away

with the setting sun;

to keep the beauty,

learn from mistakes,

release regrets

helps us move on.


The specialness of each

gifted present moment,

we miss

when we get hyper-focused

keep our gazes affixed,

keep treading, keep heading

into that unreachable West,

and before we know it,




have passed.


Let us wake

and lift our faces

to the light

and live

for today,

careful we don’t become blinded by the East, though,

for chasing the future

in sunrises

still takes us



Disclaimer: If your present is unbearable, live for tomorrow, retreat to the past, wherever the warmest ember is, and for now, hold on to that… ❤

Poem and images ©LauraDenise


A little over two years ago, I visited Ponce de Leon Springs State Park with some friends. It was September, and the water was cold enough to keep most out of it, 68 degrees year-round. Some brave souls waded in the shallow waters.

I dove headfirst off a rock into the deep.

It was a time in my life of great upcoming transition, a time in which I needed to dig deep to find the courage I needed to commit to life changes. When my whole body was instantaneously submerged in the frigid, crystal-clear waters, I felt the freedom, the emergence into a new life, the farewell to the old me.

I needed this. This fountain of youth.

I did not wish to become younger. I wished to live longer. I wished to add back the years of my life I may have lost from the disease of stress. I was ready to start fresh, though some residue cannot be fully washed off, washed away.

Today, other days, I remember that day. That rebirth. I made that dive with purpose, with full faith, full humility, full submissiveness to my higher power. It was a pact with nature, my oldest comrade, the universe, benevolent despite my seemingly unfair shake.

I am a photographer, but I did not take pictures of the deep spring. I did not think to have my friends capture my moment. I did not need equipment to capture it. I knew the moment would remain in my spirit always, as clear and natural as the water.

I did capture two things with my lens that day, I realize as I scroll through my pictures. I will let them speak for themselves; after all, a picture is worth a thousand words.

Sometimes, though, a non-picture is worth so much more…


Version 2

Prose 10/21/19. Images 9/24/17. ©Laura Denise

Fallen Petal


I saw a fallen petal

bright and lively,

upon a bed of brown pine,

gorgeously lying.


Does she know her fate is now


Poor, poor purple petal,

I wish I could reattach you,

return you to the rest.


I saw a fallen human

bright and lively,

upon this bed of brown pine,

briefly join me


but realized she had not fallen

but purposely arrived;

she rose again

and took to flight,


like me,

upon the breeze.


I wonder if she

has risked it all 

to follow her heart,

to leap into life

before death does part


the bloom from the earth

for our time is already short.

Had she gone, like me, to find 

what her heart beats for?


Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Unseasonable Spell

Come play with me

like it’s spring

and the windows

have just been opened;

let the fresh breeze of me in

to freshen up your spirit.

Twirl me to the music,

pretend I’m singing on key,

strum the dusty chords,

set the music free.

Turn up the volume

on the stereo,

let our dances turn zany,

until the stifled screams inside

turn to laughter and escape.

Smile at me

with your eyes

because you can’t help it.

Let’s get intoxicated

with the mere thrill

of living again.