Laura Manipura, poet
Through the Eyes of a Poet series by Christina M. Ward
Featured Poet: Laura Manipura
Objective: To encourage people to broaden their reading interests through poetry, support the poetry community, and introduce you to poets and their personal stories.
For updates on this series: Join this Author Newsletter.
Hello poetry friends.
Today I bring to you the story of a lovely poet named Laura Manipura, whose life is rich with interest. I find myself wanting to know more about her and the experiences she's had just from her intro! I hope you'll spend some time here with me today celebrating this free-spirited, deep-thinking poet who brings so much to the world through her words.
About this poet
I was born in Columbia, South Carolina, but being a navy brat, I was moved around a bit before returning to attend college. In 1996, I was called by Mother Nature and father guru to move to Roanoke, Virginia and then from there to a small spiritual community.
According to the Past Lives Deck by Doreen Virtue, I have been writing for lifetimes. But in this birth, writing began with reading. As a shy, introverted child, I preferred the company of words and began reading at an early age. I learned it from my mother, who learned it from her father. My grandfather used to stay up so late reading that he would ask my mother to go to the phone on the corner to call in sick for him.
Tell me about how you came to be a poet.
I used to attend a weekly Sunday night “Praise Jam” in a community two hours from where I lived. I was surrounded by singing bowls, chimes, and rain sticks; all inviting me to play. There were poetry books in the center of the circle; Rumi, Hafiz & David Whyte. Sometimes people would sing, other times read poetry, play instruments, or just make animal noises. Ever the introvert, I was surprised when I started reading poetry aloud. So tender, so raw; it moved me to tears. I’d drive home after that, singing my mantra to stay awake, then climbing into bed late; only to awaken before dawn all on fire with pretty words.
A forest giant crosses my path,
And I am homeless once again,
As he brushes my lace from his bearded face.
I have seen you twist that hair before.
Its endless, the twisting, a hairy dance.
Everything we do takes us away.
Read the rest of Sisters on the Wheel
Many thanks to Laura for sharing a bit of her life with us–if you’d like to follow Laura’s work you may find her on Medium:
Thank you for reading about this featured poet. I invite you to include poetry in your reading and give this genre a chance to enrich your life. I will be featuring poets on my blog (Author Website), in my newsletter (Author Newsletter), and on my Medium platform (Fiddleheads & Floss Poetry). I welcome you to read about these poets, support them, and perhaps find a poet that brings something very meaningful to your life.