Tag: #time

Now and Then

City bound, 
experienced, birthed
in the bustle,
though now it binds
as my heart pines
for the last stretch 
of passed pastoral… 

before the SunPass,
in a time before tolls, 
passing the tractor
and grazing cattle. 

I count down the days
until I can back-peddle
to the split-rail fences, 
and enter through the rickety gate
to my soul’s haven.

Take me away and back
and leave me there; 
come ’round to call 
every now and then. 

Umbrellaless On Purpose

Moments drip
drop, first
molecules
floating
to fall,
and when
the basin
is filled,
our time
is up.

Let me taste
each one
individually
upon my
upturned
mouth.

May I spend
the least
amount
in flood
or drought,
paned,
sheltered
or drowned.

Let me feel
it all
though;
to offer an umbrella
or call me inside
is to deny me
each elixir dose
to my soul’s life.

Moments
shared
with others,
even fleeting
in passing,
make up
the ocean
of emotion
that fills and
propels me
most deeply.

When the last sun sets,
I know I cannot take
any drops with
even though they became a part
of my very composition,
but heaven is in the clouds
for a reason,
and I believe from these
drops within,
another birthing
will begin… 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Barricades and Gates

Don’t count the days
you’ve been apart
or all the fissures
that keep forming
in your heart.

Don’t count at all
except to count on the reunion.
Sometimes it’s necessary
to future-focus in those moments. 

Close your eyes
and let that vision in;
the light of faith
makes the best stitches. 

Stop red-exing. Green circle
all the days left in this life.
Keep hope open and
into each moment invited. 

Don’t count the tears that drop
in the seemingly endless flood. 
Count on His greater plan.
Lift your face to the Son. 

Pray for the courage to take the wheel
as the angels give directions. 
Sometimes we have to wait longer;
sometimes we need to take action. 

Sometimes it’s up to them;
sometimes it’s not determined by fate
but by every action 
we don’t and do make. 

Dead ends are the Devil.
Detours, angel interventions. 
The first, avalanches suffocating.
The latter, breathways to salvation. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Out of Season

Determined to counter the moody clouds
others have been attempting to cast onto me,
I choose to seek out the sun, spring-infuse myself,
dip my soul into the fresh-blooming green,

breathe in the revitalizing April air,
let the warming rays seep in through my pores,
absorbed more in the whole of the reborn panorama than
focused on the details imploring to be explored, 

labrador-blue heeler happy for any outdoor adventure, 
not a hike but a mutually restorative leisurely linger, 
ahhh…a new season…

Circling back to the start, back to the car, 
I am not allowed to leave, it seems, 
until Mother Nature imparts
a lesson, whispers words of wisdom 
through some not-new, refusing-to-be-forgotten
leaves from two seasons ago, 
still here, and starkly so, 
weathered, fossilized autumn,

a reminder of the past
not so easily dismissed;
buried or not, it insists
on revisits,
coming to you
if you neglect it, 
but what we make
of what is, 
that is the endless work
or blessing
depending on the nature
of what was–
bright, shiny yellow
of yesterday
against the conglomerate
of rocks, man-manipulated
into asphalt,
a yellow sickness
or stubborn
fading sun,
either way the marring,
tattered edges and holes,
do not seem to take the whole,
still here despite the winter
with a fortitude to witness,
to reunite with the green 
it was itself once.

I see a reminder that
we can turn
our back on the past
and run to spring,
but all seasons remain, 
never really leave,
inside us always
are the memories,
tears of joy and loss,
the scars of life;
we can embrace it all, 
co-exist in peace
with all that is inside. 

I choose to find 
the positive,
even in the stumbling 
upon the past
in my determined
celebration of the
present moments,
all presents indeed,
and then I find a smile
in the concrete
when I see
yet another unexpected
chapter of a
love story,
so pure and yet to be
complete…

I wonder what those
resigned to defeat see.
Perception can sting
regardless, some things
we simply must feel
but perspective…
that is the key
in our control
and possession,
a powerful tool we
can self-weld and
self-wield,
manipulate,
to preserve
our internal
peace.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Everything Passes

everything passes
the good and the bad
time keeps nudging
us forward
with or without
what we once had

we can only carry
so much
in a heart, in a mind
some things we cling to
time tries to help us
leave behind

sometimes what we
strive for
simply cannot be
reached
glass divides
sound and touch
mirrors reflect
incongruities

for reasons we may
not be privy to
for certain people
may only be
meant to be
crosspathing through

to serve
but one purpose
which is not to stay
but to nudge us again
in internal direction
pitfalls propelling us
alternate ways

everything passes
including the pain waves
time keeps nudging
us forward
with or without
permission
every moment
of every day

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Holding Photographs

nostalgia bittersweet
joy so genuine, effortless
radiating, echoing
from fading photographs

touched, held between
ringless fingers and the fumes
of a heart on empty
from the moment
so distantly removed

time does not warp
those precious instances
forever suspended
feelings will flutter on
thousands of centuries

bittersweet for the bliss
is eternally retrievable
but if the present is less
then the tears
breach suppressible

falling is the gravity
of sadness, all rain
nature running its course
to cleanse the panes

we simply must
adjust the frames
order the montages
strategically arrange

so when we step back
to take in the collective
the rainbow across
our present
gets light-refracted