Poet. Writer. Photographer.
Oaths unspoken,
wordless vows,
our mutual love
could never be spelled,
no linguistic language
to transcribe these feelings
when souls communicate
in spiritual understandings,
silent exchanges
through touch and glances,
in light and irises,
we commune, begin
our dance.
Hibiscus past prime,
creation divine,
chrysalis of love
hatched, released
into the light.
Intricate shell
fossilizes secrets;
sometimes what’s
left behind is all
the epitaph needed.
Before they drown me,
I set them free,
release regrets
to the benevolent sea.
The negative leaves
in the ebb,
and in return
brings baptism.
Another rebirth,
a buoyant start,
no more weight
syncing me
to the dark.
Crest reflects
heaven’s light,
angels waking
at sunrise.
Arms spread wide
as the flow approaches,
submerged in the healing
saltwater solution.
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
I pray not
for Him
to expedite
my wishes;
I wait not
for Him
to do
what I can.
His timing
I keep
full faith in
and ask
to know
my part
in His
perfect plan.
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
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.
Never before have
the mushrooms come,
having sprung up
beneath the colors
of the setting sun,
like harbingers sending word
for the others to follow suit,
to settle in, to family reproduce.
I feel like the searched-for
hostess, the mortally-cloaked
fairy princess.
Little do the other humans know,
I live to be that escape artist,
to visit like Alice
the enchanted kingdoms
among the petals and leaves
and gypsy fungus.
Even the dog knows
to respect the magic.
Poem and images ©LauraDenise
I let myself be
in my own secret garden
the one whose touch blooms
Seasons don’t take turns;
in the South,
as one, all merge
as if to purge
preconceived notions.
Harmony is the bloom
in autumn,
the colors the frost will kiss,
the sound of the ocean
never frozen.
Peace still
exists.
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
choking vine pierces
peering into window pains
drains the last color
ember of strength flares
colors of chested dreams surge
from the inside paints
momentum floods up
the courage to turn away
and spread self-love’s wings
the greatest fear yet
overcome when exposing
the heart once again
Did you know I post my photo haiku daily to Instagram? This is today’s. https://www.instagram.com/bylauradenise
The subtlest of touch,
fingertips that brush,
we all reach from the inside,
long for a little
to lead to much.
Brown reaches for green
who too is fading…
life, a short season
to be embraced,
to find a friend,
to match with a mate,
a soul to combine with
to enter into
the next place.
