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. 

Rooted to Trees

Tree-hugger for as long as I can remember
(my favorite nature companions),
known sky-and-cloud obsesser
to those who discover a drop of who I am.

I write of the sea
because I have been living by the beach,
and if my writing you currently read,
you know mountains aren’t my thing.

Wildflowers, especially white ones,
have become infused into my self-journey,
but if I could only keep just one,
I’d have to keep the trees.

Size does matter sometimes
for I need the large circumference,
and the older, the wiser, I find is true, 
(secret bias though toward non-coniferous).

In the national forest, 
I seek the inner grove, 
the largest sequoias I can find
so I can visit my soul’s home. 

A hand, a hug, upon the giants
fills my heart, and my authentic
smile naturally shows. 

Rider

Illusion of control, 
I never really drove, 
not on a road trip
of my own;
I rode
round and round, 
hair in the breeze,
holding on to the mane
of carousel dreams, 
never free. 
Now I am.
But the invisible reins
of pleasing so long
keeps me stalled
in the corral;
my voice on auto-pilot
agreeing with everyone else. 
A passenger yet.
I sit quietly 
still looking out
the windows.
But in the rearview mirrors,
I frame my favorite parts, 
and up ahead in the near distance,
I see the peaks 
of my heart’s desires. 
I think I am ready
to take the wheel
while listening to nature
on God’s behalf appeal
to my soul, that home, 
I’ve carried all along.
I only needed to use my voice
to steer to where
I belong. 
I will need to put it in park
for the final leg,
so I can ride bareback
on my stallion 
away from all of them… 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Bubble Dreams

Dangerous to dream, I know. 
Foolish to fly in a bubble! 
Either could burst
without notice, 
drop you fast in a plummet 
to the hard reality surface. 

But what if…

the trajectory was directed
by angels’ breaths 
and the bubble made impenetrable,  
a shield only able to be
forged from the past,
and you were gently lowered
precisely as intended
by the benevolence
of your higher power
assisting you in the navigation 
toward your heart’s
deepest and purest desire?
What if the bubble 
met passion’s fire?
And in the ashes
two phoenixes rose
and began new life
and left behind 
all the rainbows 
found in bubbles?

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Sometimes The Heavens

Sometimes the heavens 
seem to shout
without a sound, 
send in golden tsunamis 
to knock us out
of our sacrilegious head-bows,
hunched over the false light,
oblivious to whom is beside 
let alone above. 
Another tidal wave of wonder
crashes against an overpopulated shore
unheard and unseen
despite its colossal reminder
that we were not meant to be
islands caught up in the streams
on screens
of mind-numbing nonsense when
the caged spirits within 
continue their deafening 
pleases turned to pleas and 
silent screams
to be released. 
Our souls see
heaven’s reach, 
but our eyes and minds 
are locked
in self-imposed
escapism stagnancy. 
And another stair to heaven
disappears, as the case
little by little,
shrinks. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Cloudscapes

Without a doubt, 
one of my favorite
parts of life is
clouds.

The soft pastels
at dawn lift me up
and take me home;
sunset-backdropped,
at day’s end,
I am delivered again,
haloed in gold. 

Nature-ensconced, 
nature-infused, 
nature my lifeline,
nature my truth-school.

I befriend every creature and petal,
explore every infinitesimal detail,
lose all track of time in the macro
finding clues about myself, 

but nothing He has made
entrances me more
than the heaven-brushed strokes
of the cloudscapes Earth-adorned. 

For cloudy days, I thank You, Lord! 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

In The Eye

Don’t tell me there is no divinity
when I am looking heaven in the eye,
infused with the essence, soul-transfixed, lifted,
swirling upwards as colors become light,

and the ingress solicitously entices the spirit
as form sublimes, shapeshifts until undefined,
and passes through the full transfusion of serenity
through the glowing portal in the after-pouring sky. 

Poem and this evening’s photo ©LauraDenise

Cloud Sails

Nothing perpendicular nor parallel nor artificial about the clouds, the only construction in how they are always self-shifting, in motion, morphing into pictures and infinite undefined shapes. No straight lines to not cross nor borders boxing in the imagination, already dissected and discarded by the non-hands of mortal science “experts,” the angels that form them, sunset color them, exercising their talents even in heaven, a role for every soul based on their former heart’s passions, now freed from binding form themselves. How can one ever look away from the clouds?

Why must I ever be called from this intriguing trance? What non-essential obligations must disrupt my lackadaisical, free-roaming, playfully-romping musings? How long can I get away with this get-away, setting dream after fantasy after dream asail on these departing wisps and puffs of hope? I wish I could say what I thought about all day, but the elusive intangible keeps flitting from capture; no, not flitting – much slower, matching the amoeba motion of the white ink blots. Leave me in peace with such ungraspable endless possibilities of these Rorschach mind concoctions.

I hear someone coming. Dragon and Pegasus swoop down to scoop me up, but today I think I’ll hop onto Sea Turtle’s back. “Take me away further into that endless perfect blue, my friend.”

Is it wrong that my favorite companions are clustered water droplets?

Words and images ©LauraDenise