Solarium

It’s not an attic window,
there are no shutters bolted tight,
no tower, no moat,
no strandedness by height,

no yellowing wallpaper,
no final-resting dust,
no musty-air poisoning,
no bed coils caked in rust.

You are in a single-story solarium
with windows open wide;
the enticing garden path
tries to lure you outside.

I’ve laid it myself;
it leads away from here.
The butterflies know the way;
the fireflies by night, steer.

There is no warden present.
There is no warden at all.
You are not kept prisoner;
screens and panes make up the walls.

I do see your ghosts;
they cordially serve you tea,
sit faithfully by your side,
read you books of false history,

but they are apparitions
as thin and weightless as the breeze
I blow into your windows
in hopes of distracting.

You feel me again,
look past them out the window;
your heart flutters to wake you,
but it’s noticed by one ghost

who floats to the window
to look out again at me.
I try to stare through him;
he grins maliciously.

I come by again in each tomorrow.
You are starting now to grey.
I’ve since given up my immortality
to free you from these
non-chains.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Sanctuary

When draining is the heat,
and bitter, the cold, 
come, my love, 
and enter my soul.

Temperate year-round,
with your favorite blooms,
in my garden of Eden,
take refuge. 

I’ll shelter you in
the protective dome,
the bubble that bounces
gently, a mobile home.

Only nature 
can permeate,
no ghosts, no shadows, 
no losing the way.

The golden hours,
sunrisesandsets,
in our private nirvana,
I’ll extend,

nothing fleeting,
no mirages, 
only the truths
in touchable colors.

When the elements become
too harsh to bear,
and the black cloud
gains ground 
to draw from you
the rain of despair, 

take cover inside
my open arms, 
enter my soul; 
I’ll be waiting 
in our garden. 

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. 

img_0583

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. 

img_9736
Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Nature Nurtured

toad-eye entrancement
needed memory-loss spell
forgetting those woes 

Forlorn I was,
but Nature won’t have it
for long, 
always intercepting, 
knowing the sure-fire ways
to illicit my dimples;
this time, 
in an unused planter,
my own fairy garden
to behold,

img_7013

and if that wasn’t enough, 
the realization 
it was a family 
portraying love. 

img_7005

Funny how I always see
the romance between 
two fungi touching

d7e1116e-4185-484c-9f82-433f2a8f1857

and how there doesn’t seem 
to be such a thing
as a mushroom 
without the merry,
underfoot fairy
tales in toadstools,
though they wouldn’t actually hold
a toad unless they were magical,
but then again, I am the biggest
believer in that, after all…

unexpected growth
merry mushroom family
unplanted smile sprouts

Faithfully, my family
out-of-doors
takes care of me  
whenever I start to feel
forlorn. 

And my pup, of course.

Poems and images ©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

Breakers

I am here. 
I am being me. 
Helpless it seems, 
but you say
it is everything. 

I hope so. 
Since the beginning, 
trusting you 
has been so easy. 

These words, simple. 
This love, profound. 
Love will win.
You will never drown. 

Hand in hand, 
together, 
we will ride
this wave
out. 

And when the surf
comes for me, 
I’ll hold on to you
until the sirens
leave. 

Through the cycles
they have cursed us with, 
we will persevere,
for lovers can be
a force to be reckoned with;
there will come the day
when they tire
or we
outwit… 

I can sense through you
this next approaching
phantom breaker.

Give me a kiss, 
my love,  
and let’s brace, 
holding each other. 

Cover your ears
and keep your eyes
fixed on my irises 
reflecting truths. 

With the strength
you gave me,
I won’t let them
take you. 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise