Subscribe to continue reading
Subscribe to get access to the rest of this post and other subscriber-only content.
Subscribe to get access to the rest of this post and other subscriber-only content.
A cardinal came to visit me He brought his little wife His bright red feathers tickled me And brightened up my life I’d been alone for quite some time Was missing you today I watched this little couple Flit about and dance and play It made me smile and shed a tear To see their tufted heads So sweet their partnership was clear Their song from beaks of red Though the rain was coming down They seemed happy as could be And I was thrilled that they had flown And landed in my tree By Diane E. Dockum ©April 25, 2023
I passed through town Riding in the passenger seat Of the Dodge And watched the trees Pass by And watched The telephone wires Rise and fall From pole to pole And time melted away Leaving only images Of the time gone by I passed through town Riding on the hard wooden seat Of the carriage And watched the trees Pass by And watched the horses drink From the trough outside The drug store And the lady at the dress shop Arranging her window display Waved as we passed, When my Dad spoke to me And I returned to the seat Of the pick up truck Wondering where I had been By Diane E. Dockum ©April 20, 2023
To paraphrase Phil From the movie City Slickers If Catalogues were people I'd be China! Something happened When I reached Senior citizen status Each day, catalogues arrive In stacks of colorfully emblazoned Glossy paper, filling my mail box with temptations There are the ones for clothing If you are fat, with arthritis, and can’t fasten buttons Or for when you travel, which I never do There is the hardware store Kind, with whatever works for Whatever kind of household hack you need There are the salves and potion Kind, with subscription-worthy pots Of goop that one absolutely needs There is a little catalogue Narrow, with a tea bag sample That offers countless kinds of tea Jewelry, make-up, razor blades Vibrators, oils, candles Wigs, and toupee catalogues Where did I sign up for this Deluge of paper? Is there somewhere I don't know about Where it's leaking catalogues And if so, can I stick a rag Into that hole? Yet, some days I pick them up And look, just in case I might need something. By Diane E. Dockum ©April 19, 2023
I am the ghost That haunts this house Unfinished things are all about I’m searching for your missing soul The other half of mine is gone I am the presence In this house That drifts from room to room Untethered like a lost balloon With slender thread that dangles down I am a shadow Of myself Imprinting on the empty wall Inspecting places high and low Searching for you everywhere I am the wisp Of mist and pain Following in your wake Grief is love that has no place I dream to see your face. By Diane E. Dockum ©April 18, 2023
This poem was inspired not only by my own grief for my late husband, Dennis, but from a poem by Donna Ashworth entitled You’re the Ghost from her book ‘I Wish I Knew’.
The rain has passed The wind is cool, it stirs the birdbath water pool Wind-chimes ring a slow sweet song Dancing branches all day long Trees are opening up their leaves Seems like all at once to me Unfurling buds in bright spring green Make the world all new and clean Dandelions with their yellow light Scattered ‘cross the lawn so bright My peaceful Sunday afternoon Wraps me in its warm cocoon Diane E. Dockum © May 15, 2016 Reposted, April 17, 2023
I found a poem I liked from a few years ago. It seemed appropriate for me today, even though it is Monday, not Sunday, and there have not been any Dandelions yet.
I hope you like it too.
Diane
Go for a drive Take a walk Plan a trip Jump off a dock Swim to Greenland Climb up a tree Sit on the roof Bounce on someone’s knee Lie under the table Sit on the stairs Sleep on a pew Ride a few mares Jump off a milk can Look up not down Roll up a hill Head out of town By Diane E. Dockum ©April 16, 2023
Some days it's hard to move to get out of bed to open the curtains Some days the promise of coffee or a shower is reason enough Some days I don't bother to wear make-up or shower and put off getting dressed Some days are too much trouble are too quiet and lonely but the idea of going out is unthinkable Some days I look at old photographs to convince myself you were really here, with me. Some days I hope I will see you again I hope we recognize each other Some day by Diane E. Dockum ©April 15, 2023 Photo by Diane E. Dockum
An old shoulder bag Caught my attention In the basement While I was doing laundry And I thought it was A lovely bag With the leather Embossment of flowers And maybe I could Use it again And the shape Was so generous But it was covered With a green furry mold I put it on the counter By the sink thinking I could save it But then I realized It was organic And the leather Was decaying It was too far gone So, I pushed it Into the bin With a little pain In my heart And a lot Of regret by Diane E. Dockum ©April 14, 2023
Two fat Robins Walked my yard One sunny afternoon Scouting for a worm or two The hunt was done Two by two Four little eyes Rimmed in white Stared into the dirt Too faint for humans Noises rose and Cocking heads from side to side The worm was got By pointy beak Before it could escape And tiny bird feet Felt the vibes Beneath by Diane E. Dockum ©April 13, 2023