Poet. Writer. Photographer.
Beside them the birds of the heavens dwell; they sing among the branches.
Psalm 104:12
Emerging from tepals,
I simply listen
to the birds’
morning songs
before the wakening
and bustle
of the world
in which we both
belong,
before the sun itself
beats its rays down;
thank you, Lord,
for the gradual
transitions
and living Psalms.
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
I am still faithfully following
petals as paths
with my soul’s whispered directions
to where you are at,
the one to reciprocate
all this love I have,
and along the way,
I’ve grown to love
the way
I am.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
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
I am fueled by storms
and coastal wind
as I raise my arms to each
and channel them
until empowerment rises
boldly from within…
But it is in the still
and minute,
in the soft scent
of beautiful,
in the trust of subtle,
the barely discernible,
that I feel the forgotten
soothed,
those buried-alive
non-truths;
the golden elixir single ray
finding the torn petal
coats in those places
I am not able to ever reach
on my own.
Up close and personal
is the only way I know
to heal my heart,
to feed my soul,
and that, I believe,
is the path that leads
home.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
The sky is not
the limit
but the start;
the sun
never sets,
just lends
its rays west
and the stage
to the stars.
Wildflowers cannot
be weeded if
they sprout
from the heart;
you cannot stop mine
from rising beyond
the highest heights
of love.
Looking out my bedroom window
a long while, late on a spring day,
opposite weather inside of me,
a seductive swirling veil of gray,
to choose which to follow,
if either non-path at all,
takes the breaking of the trance
when both come so subtly to call.
I didn’t wait for the new day;
I chose the remainder at hand,
clipped the leash to the too-excited dog,
laced my sneakers and simply began.
I let a trickle of hope in
on the way to the pond
to stir the stagnant layer
hovering weightless
but still clouding
my heart.
Perhaps I could find
beauty or love or both
in my always-open lens
that filters and feeds
light to soul.
I did. For it is always there.
Mother Nature never folds
her extended arms;
She unconditionally heals,
cares.
I knew a new day
would soon come
tomorrow,
and all would
feel better again,
but the thing about
choice and action is
that Momentum
can also be a dear
friend.
I did not wait for New Day.
I drank the sunset medicine instead.
It brought me soft romance
and a happy non-end.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
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.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Amidst the thorns,
beneath the wounds,
we can take turns
bringing self-love
to bloom,
we’ll smooth
the edges
so raw and jagged,
each lend the silk
of virgin petals
birthed in kisses
and gentle touches,
countering the poisons
of previous “gardeners”
with ill-intentions,
fencing us from
freedom.
We’ll remain
faithful companions,
take turns in the cycle
of taking and giving,
in sun and shadow,
through every internal
season and weathered vane.
We’ll simply heal
and learn
what love is,
together
the right way
until we both
blossom white,
centers exposed
to feel
the cleansing
rain.
Love will
beget love
which will
beget love
to spread.
It begins
with us.
It begins
within.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
You’ll find her beneath
the dandelion canopy,
refueling her yellow,
feeding her sunny,
nectar for her sappy,
when the sun is setting,
the crazy nature girl
bending, squatting,
making magic
out of “nothing.”
Witnesses stop asking
what she’s doing.
Make fun of her
but don’t interrupt
the wildflower child
when she’s crouched,
hair dangling down
in the dirt,
as roots reach up
to genially greet her.
Never mind her
echo to the birds
or her silly grin
as she whispers
to unseen
chimerical creatures.
You’ll find her beneath
the dandelion canopy
filling her heart’s fancy
with macro memories.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Tropical paradise fans its greens at me,
draws me so teasingly out with camera to play;
too modest usually, I let my ego go
to freely compose with total control the frames.
Sun knows its among my favorite subjects
and extends its rays for me to pose;
I do bow in reverence, low to the ground
before immortally storing gifts so graciously bestowed.
Magnolia waves, knowing her place in my heart;
I practically skip over, slip under her glossy canopy,
excited for her next batch of pre-petal tepals
to be rebirthed into another spring.
Palms sway, brushing the blue above
as wisps of white clouds lightheartedly swirl in;
some days were simply created perfectly
by The Greatest Artist and so selflessly gifted.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Laura Denise 