It starts somewhere around 3 or 4 or 5 am

That numb feeling in your arms

That sharp stab in your back

 

You think again about getting

A new mattress

So you roll over

 

And discover you have to cough

Or sneeze, or go to the bathroom

The faded memory of a dream

 

Hangs in the air

Unresolved as usual

And its molecules sparkle

 

And separate in mid air

Floating off into space

Then the sun comes up

 

The alarm goes off

You roll the other way

Hit the snooze

 

But your brain tells you to get going

Or you will be late

And if you get up now

 

You will be less late

The ritual begins with filling the

Water well in the coffee maker

 

Selecting a cup

And petting the cat that has come

To sit with you in the kitchen

 

While you sip that hot

Welcome reward

For spending the night in bed

 

By Diane E. Dockum

©April 12, 2016

 

Homage to Robert Louis Stevenson,

Inspired by “Bed in Summer”

 

BED IN WINTER

 

In Summer I get up with birds

And dress by sunny mellow light

In Winter, quite the other way

I’ve got to go to bed by night

 

I slide beneath the blankets deep

Wiggling toes and snuggling tight

I pull the blankets to my chin

Until I’m in my spot just right

 

And while the snow falls gently down

I hear the furnace kicking on

And while the moon shines on the sill

I close my eyes and wait for dawn

 

 

Diane E. Dockum

©April 11, 2016

 

Neither up nor down

Hot nor cold

Neither passion nor pity

 

Something in between

Troubled and fine

 

The dividing line

Makes me nervous

That I have forgotten

 

How to feel

Except once in a while

 

Tears will well

Heart will lift

Anger will flare

 

Depression and anxiety

Flat lined

 

Makes an even field

Removing the bumps along the way

So uncomfortably numb

 

I have to dig deep

To find my feelings

 

Thankfully ungrateful

Of the little pill

That evens my keel

 

By Diane E. Dockum

© April 10, 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

Original

Indigenous, authentic

Genuine, actual, true

A prototype of things to come

Primordial

~~~

Dry

Arid, parched

Scorched, wilted, bare

A place without nourishment

Unemotional

~~~

Meditation

Contemplation, thought

Musing, reverie, pondering

Cultivating the presence of God

Prayer

 

 

By Diane E. Dockum

©April 9, 2016

 

Poetry

Difficult, easy

Forming, dissolving, enlightening

A flow of thought with rhythm.

Song

 

By Diane E. Dockum

© April 8, 2016

 

 

High up at the end of a branch

Singing so hard his eyes pop

The song is pushing out to

Reach his lady

His voice cracks, but still he

Sings. He has a mission

That must be fulfilled

No time for breath

 

By Diane E. Dockum

©April 7, 2016

After days of sun and hope of spring
When snow blows cold and new,
Crusting to the cedar branches,

Sticking fast to maple trunks
Standing silent in a line
Hardened in the frigid air

Trees reach forlornly
Naked and starkly drawn
With charcoal strokes

Cold so long they crack
And shiver in the wind
Beneath peeling bark they wait

The stillness and the motion
Draw a contrast to the eye that watches
Sun setting without melting the snow

No smell of earth drifts to us now
No promised soft warm breeze
Patience is pulled reluctantly from the brain

Tomorrow comes, and again tomorrow
When each day is a step closer
To growth, to new beginnings

By Diane E. Dockum
© April 6, 2016

 

 

I made myself wake up,

I had to stop a mushroom dream.

My chest felt crushed under a

Pale fat man with buckteeth

Lying on top of me cutting my hair.

He seemed so shy, and wouldn’t

Look me in the eye.

Later,

When he put on his glasses and vest

He turned into a large white rabbit.

This surprised me, as it was quite sudden.

His scissors were so nasty,

You could see patches of rust along the blades.

I worried that I would get

A terrible hair cut,

In fact, he had left one of the locks

Long and it hung down to my left

Shoulder, while the rest was

Chin length.

Upsettingly, he had given me bangs

Without permission,

And I had to talk him out of being a rabbit

So he could correct it, which seemed to take forever.

I felt as if I could not breathe,

I don’t think I was

Getting enough oxygen.

Oddly, his name was Kinney

Like the drug store.

 

 

 

By Diane E. Dockum

© April 5, 2016

 

 

Inside that Sheath

That covers our soul

Discomforts come as

Messages and,

Pictures that slide through

Our brains in a chemical soup.

Do we pay attention?

Where do we feel stress?

Mind? Body? Spirit?

Head, heart, muscles and tendons

Knit together

In an amazing framework.

Layers cover the depths

Of our eternal essence —

Skins as thick as a rhino’s.

Yet, this is a temporary place.

We move on from here

To another plane

Where our being,

Realigns with the Universe

And Love is All.

 

by Diane E. Dockum