Drops and Petals

Single drops of mindfulness,
nothing exists but the rain
in molecules suspended,
clinging to the present,
an amnesia of pain.

Reflections of the now
that surround as pieces
to the whole,
the tiniest spider 
inside a flower
a single strand of silk
webbing hope. 

The world does not stand still,
it simply dissolves;
even the blazing sunset 
ensconces in a single leaf
fallen.

Sometimes peace
is too big of a thing
to be able to grasp onto,
and so nature scatters
daily treasures
for us to collect
as truths,

trinkets for lockets
to garnish hearts
with intended protection
when the showers
feel drowning
and the sunsets
remind too much
of losses.

There is simply beauty
in this moment
offered as solace:
hone your sight
to find and focus on
that instant of inner
silence.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

After-Storm

Unedited after-storm sky,
heavens open up
as if to apologize 
for the tribulation
necessarily survived,
though still withheld 
must be the why.

Instilled with a knowing
a higher power so loving
is in control when I spin
in my free will off trajectory, 

I simply pause all the swirling
emotional turbulence within 
and feel the wind,
the exhale of the one above,
mighty breath on my skin;

my hair and soul lift up,
and I wish my feet would. 
Grounded on this earth for now;
let me master all the lessons.

There is nothing but comfort
in the after-storm sky,
a sojourn wrapped in serenity,
a glimpse of afterlife. 

Today, I Choose

Today, I choose
to mute the gray,
encroaching ghosts,
and the negativity
of others attempting
to block the rays.

I turn up the colors,
the cardinal’s song,
my own showtune voice
singing along,

the sky blue,
the verdant greens,
the leaves infused with
late summer’s breeze…

Today, I choose
to mute the grays,
to focus only on
the beauty gifted
in this day.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Drops of Fuchsia

A sojourn among the wildflowers
is what my soul needs
in regular doses,
down low 
among the “weeds”

where time does not stand still,
but the world does,
for nothing exists in the moment
except for us, 

and no greater beauty 
can there be
than in the nonmanhandled,
outside-the-garden-lines seed
that blooms so gracefully,
silently defying, 
yet exuding pure peace;

that peace
transfers into my essence
as I listen with my soul
to the whispered sapience, 

no lesson or story 
captivates my interest
more than what the petals transmit,

and to think how often it goes unnoticed –
underfoot, sole-crushed, disregarded –
the natural therapy for inner balance.

If you happen to have the interest, 
I’ll share with you what was imparted 
on this Tuesday morning in my own backyard
during my daily sojourn 

among the wildflowers…. 

I wish to simply be
the color in your gray,
to open your heart to seeing
every season has new days,
and there always exists
little blessings sent 
personally your way… 

We all at times lose focus
as the world becomes tear-blurred;
that’s why we were given each other
to lean on, lend strength, stay near.

When we get closer
through the growing trust,
we become less guarded
and show the rest of us,


the complexities, 
the other ways through 
the protective shield,
the scars, the webs, the truths,

and we find,
though all unique,
we are the same
in our sufferings,

made so we
take turns with it,
return to the circle 
of falls and lifts
.

I am here
to share my hues,
overflowing now,
but once like you
.

And when you come
into fuller bloom,
pay it forward
so others may too
become imbued.

Poem and this morning’s backyard photography ©LauraDenise

Drifting

Blue skies seem sometimes
behind us too far,
and when the oasis of nearness 
dissipates into illusion
yet again, 
we dangerously tire,

as the colors of hope
fade
like sidewalk chalk 
in the rain,
and we drift
without care
into the storm. 

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But as long as there are
forks and bends
in the paths and roads,
what-ifs and depends,
Fate can only temporarily take
hostages,

for choice and circumstance
and weather will permit
the opportunities
to change direction
over and over again;
only lack of faith
can lead to the
false perception 
of dead-ends. 

Sometimes when we are
too weary to drive,
another takes the wheel: 
sometimes God,
sometimes Satan, 
sometimes someone
who loves you still. 

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Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Destinationless

Destination to nowhere,
traversing on foot,
no longer running away,
just enjoying the non-route 
and what blooms
from roots wildly seeded
and the textures
of the season
and infinite skies
ever shape-shifting
like my thoughts
and the way I get lost
far away in them.
Dusk hushes.
Frogs belt out.
Alert for bears
and human predators, 
I turn toward home
and the portal of color
gradually closes.
My feet return to pavement,
having being lowered
back to reality
which, these days,
is equally rewarding.
Outside in the mornings
and in the evenings,
essential to my emotional
well-being.
I can’t imagine
not being gifted
this amazing, tranquil 
creation. 
Thank you, Lord, 
for the free and natural
cure-all medication. 
In my backyard,
beneath the stars, 
I continue my wandering
contemplations… 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

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

Unforecasted Rain

Rain and storms, natural parts of the cycle;
why do I let them sometimes level 
me? Perhaps it’s the blindsiding.
What if I had a service to alert
when my past in shallow puddles lurks?
Tentacles too quickly encircle
around my ankle–
down the rabbit hole
again. Yet even then,
I know from experience, 
the falls are physically
harmless. What’s another
puncture in a wound
unable to be seen?
Though no bodily pain 
I’ve ever known 
makes me so heavily 
internally bleed 
out. Hemorrhaging soul. 
Still, it is inevitable:
the weather changes 
back again every time.
What’s left behind?
A piece I bury, not of me,
but a part of the repetition 
of unhealthy;
one less tentacle grows back, 
unable to regenerate. 
One by one, I slay them, 
and the only way 
to pass through the portal
is through those puddles,
so I brace 
for the rain. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Overlapping Storms

Choking on saltwater waves
that relentlessly batter,
you smile and assure me
you don’t need the preserver. 

You insist I take it,
even though we both know
I am the better swimmer. 

I pass it back. 
I can tread
these waters
longer. 

We will alternate. 
Save your strength. 
You can give me
intermittent breaks. 

This is my
domain. 
Titan hears you
pleading
my name. 

Mermaid fins 
are reinstated.
I transfer them
to you instead. 

My faith and your support
will keep me afloat. 
Our love will make peace
with the tempests
and be our lifeboat. 

And when we 
feel the shore firmly
beneath our feet, 
I will let you again
carry me. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise