The falsie next to the

Overnight deposit box

Lies abandoned

For unknown reasons

Robin’s egg blue

Against the pavement

Soft, round foam

Who knows what happened

To cause its

Placement at this establishment

Did it fly out as she

Reached through the car window

To deposit her check

Or did some random

Boob leave it there?

By Diane E. Dockum

There was a long space of time when I didn’t do what I said I was going to do, as far as writing much. I did go back to Yoga, and walking but it seems I have been remiss in keeping up my blog.

April is near, and I want to do that thing where I write a poem every day in April, because it’s Poetry Month.

Already I have butterflies.

My mind is racing, and I am grabbing at the threads of ideas that whirl around me as I go through my day. Never writing anything down, I hope my mind retains and composts all of this to use later as fodder.

Today is March 25. Good Friday. I have no plans for Easter. It will be just another Sunday. It will be what ever happens that day, I suppose. I try not to think too hard about it. I do, however, secretly rejoice in the resurrection of Jesus. How cool was that?!

I don’t go to church services any more. Cannot explain why, and don’t need to.

And now I am going to have hot dogs and macaroni and cheese.

2016 is here. I am going out on a limb by saying that I plan on doing a few things differently this year. I want to go back to my Yoga practice, which I have missed doing for a long while now. It shows. I feel out of whack, off balance, and uneven.

I want to walk more too. I want to write more. This blog, a blog about writing, and not writing, is my beginning place. Usually I don’t type cold into the blog, as I am now. I am just letting my feelings flow, and the muscle memory in my fingers fing. Fing is not a word, I just made that up. It means fingers doing what fingers do.

I do like to talk inside my head. I suppose now I will have to talk with my fingers, or with a pen on paper. Maybe my Yoga and Meditation practice will loosen a few tight spaces in my mind. At least that is what I am going for. It is so hard these days to work at an office and sit all day putting in data and dealing with callers and making everyone happy that they called you. I so want to make it nice for people, but some of them … well, I won’t go there. I just must rely on my inner nice person to get me through.

Let us all leave our inner monsters behind. Let us all be happy and smile at each other, and be helpful and polite. I do not live in a dreamy fairy land, and I have day to day aches and pains. I resolve to rise above.

Happy New Year to you. Yes, you. I see you there. I understand.

Full moon rising
Pale light bathes the roof
Looking like snow

© Diane E. Dockum
April 30, 2015

If you were wondering….The lune is an American form of poetry similar to the haiku. One way of writing a lune is to count the syllables: thirteen syllables are arranged in 5/3/5 format, five syllables in the first line, three syllables in the second, and five in the third. Another way is to write 3 words, 5 words and 3 words.

April 29, 2015

Revision of a previous poem:

I belong to a writer’s group, which meets to discuss our writing, give and get constructive criticism and encouragement. At our last meeting I read a poem which I recently posted on this blog. It was suggested that I shorten it to make it stronger. I have worked to revise this poem. I hope it is a better, stronger image. If you have suggestions about writing, please feel free to leave a comment.

Let Darkness Fall II

Let the sun go down

Let the shadows crawl across the lawn

As the supper dishes are washed

Let the kitchen go black

Let the bedclothes be turned back

And the teeth be cleaned

Let the quiet weave its way

Through the house, and the lamps be lit

Let the curtains be closed

As the street lights come on

And the bats fly out of the vacant house

On the corner lot four houses down

Let the bank and the post office

Sit in the dark, and the phones

Go unanswered

Let sleep come, give in

And let dreams sort the day

Let darkness fall

©Diane E. Dockum, 2015

A gaúcho from South Argentina
Had a drink in a local cantina
His language was coarse
When he sang to his horse
While playing his red Concertina

© Diane E. Dockum, 2015
April 28, 2015

I tried to write a poem with 5 syllables in each line, and give the poem a long name. Here is what I came up with…

Reflections On Driving Just Before Dark

Driving at twilight
The sunset ahead
What’s that walking fast?
Little legs crossing
The highway at dusk
Is it a pigeon?
Is it a duckling?
Skittering over
The pavement so fast
I slow to a crawl
My headlights turned on
The sun slips behind
The horizon line
Whatever it was
I’m sure it is gone

© Diane E. Dockum
April 27, 2015

Sunny morning turns
Cloudy in the afternoon
Church bell rings the hour

© Diane E. Dockum, April 26, 2015

She never gave me jewelry
She never gave me gold

But the treasures of her heart
Her bounty was untold

She wiped my nose and dried my tear
And painted visions wide

I always knew that she was near
And in her arms I’d hide

She never gave me things that
Gather dust upon the shelf

But, what she did was
Empty out, for me, her very self.

© Diane E. Dockum
May 18, 1991

Author’s note: This poem has never been published before, except in the program of my Grandmother’s funeral in 1991. I have been having dream after dream of her the last week or so. I thought I would share this one, since I’ve had her on my mind. April 24, 2015