After the battle

The grassy plane waved on

The sun went up across the sky and set

Like any other day

The flowers opened at break of dawn

And showed that beauty is there still

Among the fallen soldiers strewn

Across the grass

Across the world

And no one speaks

And no one hears

The truth

That rings so loud and clear

That war is often used by men

For reasons that are lost in fear

So on that field of grassy plane

Where breezes ripple waves of grain

An inland sea whose waves roll on

Reclaims this earth we all live on

©Diane E. Dockum, April 14, 2015

April Wind

Prowling power roars

Pushing hard against the walls

Cats flatten their ears

©Diane E. Dockum, 2015

In winter, the sun

Is late to rise

Holding back its warmth

Deceiving in its brightness

     Its arc across the sky

     Is done without warmth

     Giving light reluctantly

     Taking it back too soon

In spring we lean closer

In the northern half of the planet

And after a while

We feel the heat

     And after a long while

     The lingering days pull us into summer

     Then we become the reluctant ones

     Who won’t let go until the leaves fall

©Diane E. Dockum, 2015

April 9, 2015

Gaia

Terra Firma

Spinning, changing, feeding

Our only hope of survival

Earth

Airstream

Flowing Power

Pushing, shaping, tearing

Breeze, Gale, hurricane or zephyr

Wind

Passion

Fervor, bonfire

Sparking, Heating, Burning

Consumer of all obstacles

Fire

Power

Oceans, rivers

Drowning, flowing, crashing

Creator of canyons and falls

Water

©Diane E. Dockum, 2015

April 8, 2015

Music

Human voices

Breathing, blending, soaring

Feeding the soul, lifting spirits

Life

©Diane E. Dockum, April 7, 2015

Flashes of coherent thought

War against doubts and fears

Synapses flash

Breathing races

Heart pounds to feed the cells

Juices flow

Decisions hit the walls

Like splattered paint

And run down into pools

Along the mop boards

The smell of roses and burnt toast collide

I have run out of paper

And my ink has dried on the line

I can’t think of any words that would

Make sense

I am full of broccoli and chicken

The Oolong tea was dark and buckets of water

Sat unattended as the melting snow from the roof

Burbled through clear plastic tubes

Like sap into the red plastic pails

And a brain damaged man

Made guttural noises in the other room

But the waitress was sweet and attentive

It was good not to have to make supper

And drink egg drop soup from a

Thick white bowl

Still I am hunting for a poem

To post on my blog before midnight

My Easter vigil has begun

Now 40 minutes have passed and still nothing

I want to write about death and life

Because of Easter but the words smack of hokum.

Where did that go?

Where is that part of me who heard the angels sing

And felt the still small voice of God?

©Diane E. Dockum, 2015

A post-war drama in letterbox

Glows silver in the center of my TV screen

While the dirty snow melts

From the walk outside my window

Deborah Kerr coughs

Elegantly into her hanky

And Van Johnson looks haunted and lonely

As she ascends the steps and closes the door

Leaving him to linger there

Haunted and hollow

His hopes melting

Like the dirty snow

© Diane E. Dockum 4/1/2015