The gravedigger

Up to his neck

Flinging black dirt over his shoulder

It was about 5:30 when I went

By the cemetery

And noticed him

He looked like he’d been digging

For hours

The piles were high

On every side

It was sunset when

I went by again

Driving the other way

Surprised to see

That there was no grave in sight

By Diane E. Dockum

© April 24, 2017

The listener, listening in the snow

Hears how it sighs down through the air

And settles on the evergreens

That whisper softly in his ear

He hears the quiet growing

While around him falls the night

And the silence as an owl sweeps by

While the moon is shining bright

He walks through woods in winter

Hearing grouse and wind through trees

A listener, listening in the snow

Finds nature’s symphonies

By Diane E. Dockum

© April 23, 2017

Daffodils are cheerfully in bloom

With sunny yellow faces

But the meth house is abandoned

So no one sees

by Diane E. Dockum

© April 22, 2017

I stood

And loved you

While you slept

All wrapped in yellow

Blanket bright

All through the night

Your tiny lips

Would pucker and pinch

To phrase your dreams

And I loved you

From across the hall

And listened hard

To each breath

And waited there

Beside your crib

At dawn to feed you

Close to me

We slept again

On that couch

And I loved you

While you ran and played

And later grew

To beauty’s height

I watched and waited

In the night

To hear your footsteps

Down the hall

And loved you still

And will not stop

No matter what

No matter what

 
By Diane E. Dockum

©April 21, 2017

Ever feel like

Your entire life is in review?

I’ve been reading

My Facebook comments

Which mostly consist of flash backs,

Re-hashes, memories, time hops etc.

Am I living in the past too much?

I try to live in the present

But there is too much of my life

In the rear view mirror.

Sometimes

I go nowhere.

I do nothing.

I spend no money.

This is not entirely true,

Only sometimes

It’s the plan.

Sometimes

I go places.

I do things.

I spend money.

I talk to people.

This is not entirely true,

Only most times

It’s the plan.

Sometimes

I am out of the loop,

I am in the know,

I am connected

And shut out.

Life is a paradox.

There is no plan,

And there’s nothing

I can do about it.

By Diane E. Dockum

© April 20, 2017

Out walking, looking for a poem

I remembered chores

I should have done

But the day was almost spent

The poem hung inside my mind

Like morning fog

Remnants of dreams

Dissolving as the light changed

Out walking, standing in places

I had not stood

I waited for the poem to form

Ignoring time – ignoring “shoulds”

Deeper into the autumn woods

Inhaling sunlight, fading fast

I came upon deserted toys

A tree house built by little hands

With carpet remnants

Nailed fast

Into the wood

A broken chair that in my kitchen

Once had stood

And that baby blanket

I wondered where

It had gone

Long deserted, faded now it hung

Where once a

Door had been

My poem was there instead.

By Diane E. Dockum

Excerpted from “Just Beyond The Hill” ©2008

All those thoughts you store away

They’re too raw for you to share

So you roll them up like socks

In a drawer of underwear

All those thoughts you store away

Feed your dreams so long and deep

Through the nights of darkest need

And the days of light and speed

Keep your anger

Hide your fear

Stuff your worry

In a box

All impulses flattened down

They’re too big for you to show

So you stow them all away

In footlockers of despair

At the ends of all your beds

All the silent sounds are pressed

Locked in the twisting turning

Centers of your energy and light

May the universe release you

May you live the life that’s free

May you worry not about

What everyone might see

Smile your grin without a worry

Love your skin that you are in

Let it out to let it in

Breathe it out to breathe it in

By Diane E. Dockum

©April 18,2017

The cat walks under my bare feet

That dangle from the recliner

And the soft fur brushes past

On the way to somewhere

I shun the loud volume of the

Television and my ears seek silence

My soul yearns for wide open peace

My attention shifts around the room

Settling on nothing

And drifting to nowhere

I’ve used myself up today

And there is nothing left

I crave sleep and dreaming

By Diane E. Dockum

©April 17, 2017

In the quiet of the afternoon

The rain in a steady thrum

Cleans the air

That little bird songs fill

And darker than that morning’s sun

Grows the day

And wetter still, the lawn grows,

The greening of the grass begins

A ticking clock merges

With the silver sound of wind chimes.

Rain makes me sleepy

And cars splash by.

In the quiet of the afternoon

The curtains lift in the breeze

And soft green smells

Find me napping.

By Diane E. Dockum

© April 15, 2017