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.

Flickers

Fear resides on both sides,
in the direct sun and in
the borderless shadows;
the light, however,
competes with mine,
so my soul still remains
largely unexposed.

I unzip my skin
behind the bushes
and dip into the sea
of all that I am
and all that I have
yet to be,

a flame underwater, inextinguishable,
no longer chained to the illusion
of drowning;
I dive deeper in belief
of my self
and arise, wet and glowing.

In my new skin,
a more comfortable fit,
I swirl together
the sun and shadows
as I dance,
and the flickering
upon my upturned face
reveals another transformation
taking place
within.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

I Bring You the Sun

I bring you the sun,
beauty too, 
sought after it, 
left the window view.

It’s all I can do.
I hope it is enough 
to remind you 
how much 
you are 
loved. 

I bring you the light
and the white flowers
and the glow from my soul
that you ignited. 

I bring you the rays
across the ocean,
a beacon to grab onto
to keep you surfaced,

to dispel the shadows
deep down inside,
to ignite the ember
and restore the fire. 

I’ll bring you me too
in person
soon enough 
and keep myself lit
for your touch,

and through my kiss,
you will be restored,
my healing breath
upon your flesh, warm. 

But for now,
I bring you the sun
through your window
to lure you up.

Come outside, my love. 
Let Mother Nature hug. 

Sending This Ray


Thinking of you, old friend,
and sending this ray
to reach you and remind you
you are valued today.

Thank you for all the ways
you inspired me to take up my pen;
I haven’t let it rest since then
and never will again.

It’s not right for the shadows
to ever find you so I
chase them sometimes
because you forevermore deserve
peace of mind,

and souls connecting
in this life
is what most matters,
so these shadows
I’ll continue to endlessly help
sc a t t e r

because you changed my life
for the better:
because of you,
I am a writer.

Pick up your guitar
and strum away
the shadows encroaching
upon you and others today.

Solar Love Story

She is the sun; he, the moon.
Her radiance sustains the whole galaxy:
her rays embrace all.
“She will never notice me.”

Her light reaches him though,
making him feel he is aglow himself.
“She is out of my orbit,
the entire universe’s mademoiselle.”

Day and night, he thought of her
and ways he could express his affections.
“Maybe she will notice
if I reflect her incandescence.”

He looked forward to when
he circled nearest her,
rehearsed how he would present himself
but each time, choked with fear.

And away the gravity took him,
parting him from her once again.
He finally gave in
to thoughts self-defeating.
“I am but one plain moon,
of her love, not worthy.”

All the while, she longed for him,
her reach at each sunset especially visible.
Each time he passed her at that closest point,
she tried to turn down her heat
to show they were compatible.

Until she, too, gave up hope,
never moving on but letting go.
“Oh, my dear sweet moon.
how I wish, to you, I could have been
beautiful.”

And so it is and continues:
the greatest love story never to be,
not gravity but themselves preventing
the realization of the same dream.

(Pano shot viewable on my site.)

The Green

Golden sunbeam

finds me

between the leaves;

I cannot hide

from nature’s loving

reach.

Each new day

offers new ways

for sleepy dreams

to be rejuvenated

and for goals

to be reached,

for the only thing

between

is belief,

and will

to go after

each,

for guaranteed

after every winter

like spring,

the potential

in every bare branch

and buried seed is

the green.

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Poem and images ©LauraDenise

To Witness the Heavens

The winds arrive

and excite the waves,

even the green

line up about the bay,

my car detours

the same way,

all of us drawn to bid farewell

in reverence

to the last light of day,

casting down

in glorious display,

the awe

once ingrained

can never be

washed away,

to witness

the heavens

on an otherwise ordinary

Saturday.

 

The grasses seem to try to grasp

the sacred flame as it descends,

as if before bed to hug and kiss it,

or beg for themselves to be orange-painted.

The clouds huddle

and combine their potential

to honor in color

and escort the sun out

as if it were royal,

but royal is of the flesh and blood,

created, too, from the Ultimate Artist’s brush.

 

All images taken 2/1/20 @LauraDenise

Happiness Is

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Happiness is not always yellow

and sunny.

Laughter favors

no particular season.

A smile, though sparked

most easily by another,

still stems and spreads

from within.

 

The Moon and Clouds of Gray

still reach out

with benevolence,

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want just as much as Sun

to see your face,

your wings spread wide

to spin and dance,

 

and Rain,

oh, sweet unfavored Rain,

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continues faithfully to play,

an orchestra with Thunder,

despite ingratitude

and complaints.

 

Embrace the rain!

Remember what it is to

play

before the gripes

of adulthood

swept you away.

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And remember the warmth

offered by Sun

can still tickle dimples

from hibernation,

thaw a smile

from the ice,

despite the cold

and long winter season,

IMG_3584

for hope,

like joy,

can always be found

if you simply

go out

and look around,

 

though the truest truth is

it can always be found

within,

though the best way

to waken the laughter

from the heart

is to allow another

in.

The Skies and I

The skies are a constant

yet ever-changing,

stably existing

but always swirling,

shapeshifting,

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with new colors,

ever experimenting,

a testament of

intentional creation

awe-producing,

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designed to let

the dark pass through

rumbling,

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the water to pour out,

quenching and replenishing,

snow to fall

as virgin canvas

offering,

72362_231504170327367_1662879531_n

wordless language

in subtle and profound

images revealing.

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I am the sky

through my

poetry.

 

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All words and images ©LauraDenise