Following Flowers

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

Precious Petals

Across the street from the ocean,
I reside,
at my everyday disposal
are the almighty tides,
the aquahorizon
with no opposite end
that blends with the sky,
no greater reminder
of the bigger picture
beyond this life,
and it does indeed
soul-energize,
but I’ve always known
the humility
of how insignificant we are:
I seek instead
the intimate inner warmth
I find crouched among
the non-garden flowers
inspecting the finest details
neglected and trodden,
and through my lens and art,
I depict how they feed
my heart,
shared roots and seeds
organically free
yet universally tied,
turning our faces
peacefully
to the shared light,
the Higher Power
who sculpted us both, all,
with intention and without
society-judged flaws,
precision in individuality,
every living piece
lovingly kneaded,
and when the rays
find and kiss petals,
this is the beauty
that stills me
breathless,
to see in crafted detail
the miracles of His Creation
and how love was meant
to prevail in every season.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Softening

Sometimes, I
prefer the blur,
the softness,
of out of focus,
where it all becomes
muted and fuses
with the natural horizon,
and even my femininity,
graceful and soft-spoken,
has a voice among the hushes,
my lyrics freed but the language
not audible or of this world,
for it is my soul who recognizes
this celestial light befalling before
the sun bids us adieu, never
resting, only sharing itself with
others too, as this speck of a
planet shifts, and upon
this ray, I lay this kiss
to be sweetly
delivered
to you.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Symbols in the Sand

A detour, soulful tugging,
I find myself impulsively
knelt again on the white sands
before the altar at an end
of the earth,
surf symphony
rising predictably
to greet me,
but I casually look about
for the signs He wanted me
to again come ’round…
between my toes
ancient mountains ground
to grains,
quartz granules,
sugar-soft,
appropriate backdrop
for the hieroglyph
written for me:
it freezes me.

So easily,
I succumb
to the enchantment
of silence,
save for those waves
and occasional sea birds
with personal messages calling.
(It always baffles me
how I can so often have
this parcel of paradise
to myself…)
I stay a long, unhurried while
just trying to feel
what this enigmatic swirl
of sea oat in the sand
is all about…
Something about curves
is always so sensuous,
aesthetically strokes
my soul…
I don’t need a translation;
in fact, I prefer
this sacredly-carved symbol.
I make it my own
and add it to my collection
of clues
leading me leisurely
home.
It is the journey
after all, and I have nowhere else
to go.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Shifting

shifting sands
grains unable to be grasped
slipping through fingers
sieve of my existence
footprints vanishing
in vain trying to leave
an imprint, fingerprints
fossilizing

as I watch
sea drops dry on shells
shells of mankind
displayed non-selves
on shelves

shifting painted shapes
offer to take me away
only to lead to the next
drifting cumulous cloud
lateral when I need
to be higher
homeward bound

shifting sands
I open my hand
spread my fingers wider
I know what the answers
are not
to feel the silk
is to feel
nothing caught
but sensory strokes
the void
in the curve
of my palm
no trail found
to my entrance
into the sea

saltwater can’t sting
when the wounds
are too far beneath
the body’s surface

arms open
I invite
the above in
home-
sick
let me know
I am not

forgotten

Parting Kiss

I must part ways with you now,
dear Darkness;
Light is forlorn
without its Laura,

my aura
is dimming
the further I drift
in this alluring
cradling
away from attempts

of putting forth
the efforts
to swim
back up
toward Bliss:

I still hope,
believe (barely),
that it exists.

A parting kiss…

Yes, I know
that means
I will have to let go,
for now,
of that dream,
but I can keep
the parts
that were seeded,
for weeds
they are not;
I feel it,
in that new spot,
how I can nurture
it into something
beautiful
still…

I will.

I return to the isle
from a distance,
leave a trinket,
so it is known
I’ll always
be near,

no need to desert
every future
possibility.

We will all
someday
see.

Tranquility Ripples

Tranquility inside,
a choice,
choosing the bay side,
slowing rough waters
to ripples,
muting colors to fuse
land to sky as
complex fades
to simple. 

Walking the plank
to pause the world,
abandoned pier, 
quaint and personal,
tucked between 
leafy trees
and sea grasses
swaying subtly,

a landscape painted
lovingly
just for you.
Slip into
serenity,
retreat until 
restored anew. 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise 

Beacon

Turbulent tempest 
rises from within,
mere earthly matters
malignantly breach
the borders where
the spirit lives,
tears mix
with the salty sea,
Wind whips through 
as the harbinger singing,
assures His army
is near my shore.
I see the Beacon
from above
coming for


s  h  i  p  w  r  e  c  k  e  d    s  o  u  l  s 


ON ITS WAY TO me.
Never was I lost,
never forgotten,
never in jeopardy
of drowning. 
These truths I knew
which led me here,
the S.O.S. of my heart
He need not hear
for He is ever-knowing,
always inside,
but also right on time,
my location always known, 
sometimes granted though 
the visual signs
that my soul is not alone.
The Light so comfortingly
warms, 
and I am homesick
no more.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Somewhere Along the Way

I suppose somewhere
along the way, 
this became 
about me, 
this once person
conditioned
to inwardly
mistreat,
neglect, 
bury
prematurely
at sea,

too busy
keeping them
afloat
in puddles,
sacrificing my soul
for others, 

in the lows 
between lowers
in that life
unstable,
vows before God
to remain 
(abusive) spouse faithful,

the escape-clause
contingencies blurred,
repercussions lingering 
in the years after,

children ten years apart,
and always children,
I keep on 
giving,
Silverstein tree 
down to the trunk,
instead of remaining
to be sat upon,
I leave my roots
to carry on,

re-sprouting from
acorns and seeds
to reach the end
of land
as a sunflower, 
brazen yet desperate,
in the sand
to be plucked
by a youthful hand

and sprinkled
into the surf
for the mermaids 
to collect 
and bring to the site
of where I left
myself
and resurrect 

from Davy Jones’ Locker
the Heart of the Sea
still alive
in its keeper:
me. 

The ducks and swans
gather to greet
at the pond
where I used to
weep. 

Donned now
in floral dresses
and locks
long enough 
to dance freely 
with the breeze, 
(he always said
neither looked good
on me…)
the reflection I see
is another plot twist
in my ongoing story

with an ending
yet to be written 
but full of God’s 
golden glory,
His daughter’s strength 
ever-growing. 

Somewhere along the way, 
somehow this did become
about me. 
Another struggle lifted,
another soulful healing. 

In the setting sun,
I reflect upon the journey
and look so forward
to the fulfilling
of my legacy.

I will never drown,
for you can only
hold me down
so long, 
years but moments
in the eternity 
of dawn. 

Hope unconditionally
floats
from the buoyancy 
of love. 

This is my story, 
long overdue 
to be 
self-sung.

I actually do like to sing those soulful songs.
(He always changed the station if I even began to hum…)