Picking Up Sticks

Picking Up Sticks

Go and bend
And go and bend and stand
Bend and look
Go and look and bend

And stand and bend and
Stand and look around
Oh no there’s more
There are more fucking sticks

Huff and puff
And go and reach and bend
Walk and pile and look
And go and bend and stand

And rake and clip
Go and bend and stand
And wheeze and cough
And pile near the road

And come back in the house
And grunt and groan
And sit back in the lounge
And open up a book

(Inspired by my husband, Dennis)

©Diane E. Dockum
April 11, 2015

On The Inside

On the inside I am sitting on a large boulder

On top of a mountain singing

To the music of the sunset

As I play my guitar.

The breeze gently lifts

My dark waist length hair,

And silver bracelets are sliding

Up my slender left arm, as I find the chords.

The long skirt I wear is colorful

And comfortable, it brushes against

The bracelet on my ankle, and the setting sun

Glints on the crystal toe ring on my right fourth toe.

On the inside I smell like warm

Summer sunlight and Patchouli flowers.

I am wise and have great spiritual knowledge.

I give good advice.

Of course no one sees this inside.

My outer surface is very different

And I appear to be a woman of a certain age

Having a weight problem.

On the inside I rise above this

Unfortunate circumstance

And listen to the music

Playing in my heart.

©September 29, 2013

Diane E. Dockum