
I gently lay
my heart to rest
upon a sea-oat-
suspended hammock
and let my Maker
tenderly sway
through the breeze
my cradled malaise,
and after this dose
of soaking wounds in warm gold,
I’ll convert this sling
to sail boat…
Poet. Writer. Photographer.

I gently lay
my heart to rest
upon a sea-oat-
suspended hammock
and let my Maker
tenderly sway
through the breeze
my cradled malaise,
and after this dose
of soaking wounds in warm gold,
I’ll convert this sling
to sail boat…
Single glistening gossamer thread
catching and releasing rays with wind,
perhaps a bridge
between the yellow and white
wildflowers aglow with golden morning light.
I sit transfixed
by its intermittent existence…
Shadows have yet to be filled in
by Sun still half in bed,
and my ataractic trance
is interrupted by silhouettes:
two “mourning” doves,
omen of good fortune in love
or celestial messengers
like yesterday’s hummingbird
letting me know He’s been present all along,
and this is the amaranthine after-(last)storm calm.
In the dark,
as a harbinger
of horizon’s light:
the herald’s song,
solo bird’s
opening line.
What hope floats
through my open window
to remind:
courage upon blindness
most often rides.
In the lightening mist
before the sun arrives,
the first chords inspire
the chorus to rise…

One by one,
I pluck the thorns
barbed-wiring my heart in;
obstacle after obstacle
I surmount to prove
that love
will win.
Naturally, the plucks
unclog also the ducts
that keep the dammed rain
bayed,
but that doesn’t mean
the salt will wilt
the bloom who’s too far
on its way….


Poem and images ©LauraDenise
Injury to the heart
forever alters the beat:
weeping wounds, scar tissue,
yet a chamber still
sings…

Words and image ©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

White wings keep beating
when the heart and soul
begin to dim or slow.
Wings do not know
loss of hope.
Let wings carry you
until strength
and faith
regrow.
Let me be
those wings
for a while, for a leg
of the way
home…
Poem and image ©LauraDenise

It’s been sunny and seventies, and the seasons
have not so much been confused
as they have been seemingly
just leisurely mingling, amused,
some stalling, some joyfully letting go;
nothing in the South rushes though.
Like melting cubes of ice in tea,
we take it sweet and slow down here.
It tickles me pink to have the mix
sprinkling personal messages so clear.
Today started differently,
gray with a bit of nip in the air.
Certain trees partaking in autumn
are almost now bare,
covering the patio in a bland
blanket over stone,
which made the flowers
I did not grow
even more the focal point
of my windowed soul.
I smiled for how they have become
so deeply rooted in my journey.
Marking my heart’s pages,
so many petals and leaves held so dearly,
imprinting with their colors and scents
my most powerful untold stories.

The sea oats
have grown tall;
I let them
skim my palm,
feel the tickles
gifted from heaven
as the sea’s soul
is orchestra lifted
above the tides
of this earth
to scoop me up
with open arms
into the surf.
I offer all I’ve brought
to sacrifice to God,
releasing the heavy,
releasing the pain,
hoping the ghosts
will choose escape
as I make it more
uncomfortable
to haunt these
inner spaces
tarnished, turning gold
from the light
of love
joining the soul’s.
My feet sink
in the warm silk
as my heart,
with you inside,
even more
fills.
Buoyant become
the weights
as the shackles and chains
give way
to become part
of the dark, watery
grave.
Today, I take
back my life.
Today the curse,
I unwind.
Wet feet,
sand clinging,
I walk back
and through my fingers,
the sea oats feel
the difference
as the sun
awakens,
rises to kiss
me so gently
once
again….

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

With wide-opened arms,
I offer myself
again to the sea,
double-red flag at the
abandoned beach
and in me.
I give it all to God
who takes it up
with the wind,
wild waves
rush up from within.

Benevolent powers
remind me
who I am
and what I’m capable of
in this lifetime chance
when He is inside me
like He’s always been,
and all of nature,
my lifelong friends.

The beach itself
is rippled clean,
new slate
on which to imprint
the path
He leads,
another first step
into the trust
of His plan,
the next leg of a journey
to lead me even closer
to where He is at.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise