Thunder and Icing Persephone’s birth pangs Her water has broken Jagged lightning of pain Darkness in daytime Rumbling thunder April sky pouring A wintery rain Every branch coated In crystal and dripping Freezing and melting At the same time Weather is fickle Sunny then dreary The birth of a season Welcome Springtime! ©April 5, 2023 By Diane E. Dockum
Sunset gilds The upper branches Shining against a background Of smokey-gray A magical moment when light Is fleeting and Downward brush strokes of fire Paint Birch trunks standing among Cedars A mix of vertical white And triangle green Weather is brooding in The southern sky A breath later Darkness Closes around the Quiet trees By Diane E. Dockum ©April 4, 2023
Rows of green In the black dirt Stretching on and on Curving down toward the river A spattering rain sounds like popcorn on the leaves Making the plants dance From my porch I sniff the ozone Distant thunder rolls I Close my eyes Listen to the rain Earth scents brush past On the cool breeze Rabbits think they're hiding But I see a few Beneath the leaves Of carrots and tomatoes Eyes wide Watching for a chance To dine and dash By Diane E. Dockum © April 2, 2023 for Marble Hill Press, April 3, 2023
On top of a hill Under spreading Maple trees So many stones there Old four-bedroom house Old cast iron kitchen stove Careful with the match Freedom to wander Exploring nature’s bounty Climbing trees for fun Found a hiding place Ghost stories in the attic Cobwebs in my hair Quiet daddy’s sleeping No piano practice now Go outside and play Grandma comes to stay Bringing presents in her trunk New dresses for school Magic in the wind Sleigh bells jingle in the night Reindeer on the roof by Diane E. Dockum © March 28, 2023 for Marble Hill Press, April 2, 2023
sometimes i can read it sometimes the words are not shaped correctly to fit inside my brain with too many sharp edges and pointy parts or balloon sized puffy curves getting stuck in my mind's passageways black smudges saying pushy words on sidewalks on brick walls on signposts and stairwells what are they saying i'm here look at me i own this space not you read my words i dare you i'm here defacing your clean white walls slashing at your rules and hiding in the dark and some call it art and some take a picture one thousand words in a snapshot on bathroom walls or carved in metal doors or stone tagging on train cars rolling through town screaming out heartache obscenities slogans paint over me i dare you you can't wash me off your inner eye don't turn away don't try i am eternal from the beginning of man through millennia crying for lost love for mayhem for mischief or hate crying out on the walls chalk coal or spray paint © by Diane E. Dockum March 28, 2023
I am alive
So they say
Yet it is up for debate
It is true
That I feel like
A hollow log
Floating unmoored
Down a river
Spinning
Turning
Bumping against waves
And other debris
Flotsam and jetsam
In the gin weeds
and pucker brush
Perhaps one day
I will drift ashore
On the other side
copyright by Diane E. Dockum
March 15, 2023
I walk among the stones Imagining my body lying Beneath the ground I walk among the stones Wondering where to bury your ashes I am here to buy the ground Our bodies will lie under Side by side Urn by urn To add another stone marker Here in the quiet field where who knows what went on in ancient times I walk and open my spirit To feel the pull To feel the answer I walk and open my heart I think of sleep I think of eternity I think of earthly remains I find our spot I sign the papers Here we will be Maybe remembered By Diane E. Dockum ©September 26, 2022
A leaf shudders Without sound As the breeze passes by And no one sees The movement The sun slides across To the other side of day The cicada sings To hear itself The chair on the dock Rocks gently When ripples lift The wooden wharf Eventually two moons One high One floating As the river changes Places with the rain Do tear drops Return as clouds And rain again over Fields of roses? By Diane E. Dockum August 29, 2022
Once, when butter was hard and the best toast came out of a Sunbeam toaster, I ate a vitamin that tasted like rainbows and I held it on my tongue as long as I could Once, when the sun was so hot my sneakers melted on the railroad tracks and the smell of creosote filled my nostrils, I dropped my father's (secretly borrowed) thermos in a ditch, and the inside smashed to pieces I thought, OH NO! he's going to be mad I left it in the ditch My bologna sandwich was dry on the way down It stuck in my throat Once, when the sky was just a blue sheet above the barn, I asked what color God was (trying to figure out if the sky was God) My grandmother said God is the color of all things all at once I sat on the front steps thinking about that and a crow walked by and pecked my ankle OW! I said, and jumped up He got scared and flew off down the old dirt road Disappearing into the thick trees By Diane E. Dockum ©July 29, 2022
There is so much more to Grief
When your Husband dies
Sad and lonely, yes
But Grief is so much more besides
Not wanting to go home
Because home was a person
Not a house
Wandering restlessly around your
House as if you were searching for
Something lost, but not sure what it is
Having all kinds of free time
But no interest in your hobbies
No desire to finish that book
No interest in those TV shows
Turning on the TV or Radio just
Because you can’t stand the silence
Turning off the TV or Radio
Because you cannot stand the noise
Having no interest in cooking
A real meal for yourself
Filling your empty place with
This and that from the fridge
Faking interest in topics
That no longer relate in some way
To the love you have lost
Losing an entire day
To nothing but looking at hundreds of
Pictures and reading cards you exchanged
Over and over
Replaying conversations in your head
Reliving those last few precious moments
And desperately wanting to
Be sure they knew just how much they meant to you
It is changes in your body –
Finding gobs of hair in the shower
Feeling aches in your joints and muscles
Including your heart
It is staying up till tomorrow
Resisting sleep trying to figure out
Who you even are now
And what the point of anything is
It is feeling stuck
In a deep dark well
And no one knows
Where you are.
©Diane E. Dockum
June 28, 2022
Marble Hill Press 