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Diana Burkholder Poem
Within, without, the
sound of hope
decries,
a place so soft, so
small it begs to
live
in heart - in mind.
In sea of calm set
sail
to dream of spell so
sweet; so kind this
home,
and still this spot.
To touch this grace,
as when
we die; to rest in
sleep before this
dawn becomes
this day. And still
we are as love to
one
to join within one
soul. As if one
heart
could know its place
- inside one soul
alone.
If you could be but
one close thing, as
near
to me as GOD, in
raptured awe my
heart
would sing; to bless
your breath in
sweet, sweet psalm.
August 9, 2014
Copyright © Diana Burkholder | Year Posted 2014
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Diana Burkholder Poem
Back from the zombie
wars
Who can I become
now?
Kat speaks to me in
harsh meows
“Get off your butt,
human,
Do something….”
My heart has been
twisted and rung
almost dry,
Like perhaps a
walnut,
Shriveled and
coarse,
Void of its essence.
And how am I to go
on?
A volumnless and
broken thing -
Waiting till I hope
it stops.
Even no guarantees
there.
Zombie Apocalypse II
I coax and coo in
that voice
I use when I want,
When I want things
to be better.
Who am I to have an
idea
How that could
possibly happen…
Guss and I are
spooned,
Together like one
thing
In a large firm
place
Where sleep is the
objective
And I am afraid of
shadow people
I cannot see and
do not know.
It is a test,
And I need you to
make it through
The illusion of yes
And your soft,
coiled fur
Pressed against my
stomach and back
Is all I know right
now
And that is not even
real.
Copyright © Diana Burkholder | Year Posted 2014
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Diana Burkholder Poem
Knowing soft grey moss
cloisters on north tree trunk
happens always so.
Diana Burkholder Aug. 12, 2014
Copyright © Diana Burkholder | Year Posted 2014
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Diana Burkholder Poem
Finding the heart of
my place,
birds peep
Songs tweet
At singing beach…
everything sings
around here.
We strangers
settle
into
early a.m. newsprint
revelry,
by the glass of a
morning sea
reflecting a morning
sky.
Someone’s tune
dances
a polka
stepping across the
bay – and
everything
is
coming
up
music
this year.
Copyright © Diana Burkholder | Year Posted 2014
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Diana Burkholder Poem
Have you noticed
how men meet with
their hands, and women
meet with their hearts?
Either way the
warmth of the
human body is transmitted.
It does not
mean they are trustworthy,
or kind,
or willing to do that one
small thing that
will make all the difference
in someone's world;
Only that they are
of the same kind,
with the same pains,
and the same hopes,
and the same tears.
But does anyone know
if turtles cry?
Sept. 1, 2014
Copyright © Diana Burkholder | Year Posted 2014
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Diana Burkholder Poem
I am a child in
heart,
Not understanding
why we cannot say
these things;
Let free this sigh
of gracious hope,
across forever
skies.
It is only in heart
that I know
my God does let me
love,
as I can,
and I will.
No matter course,
or action,
or outcome;
I do not grieve this
forsaken spot,
where even angels
fear to go
Sept. 1 2014
Copyright © Diana Burkholder | Year Posted 2014
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Diana Burkholder Poem
What is the secret
to longer, lush
lashes
and why do
the answers to
important
questions
like this one always
come as
secret information,
that I feel
compelled
to seek
in order to be
in step with
and in line with
life,
especially the one
(I have come to
know)
as a woman
in a giant
world
with no room
for
more?
Copyright © Diana Burkholder | Year Posted 2014
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Diana Burkholder Poem
A poem
comes out a long trailing of words,
tendrils of heart,
shadows of the soul,
sweeping across this great, great place,
like a spirit seeking home.
And finding that
sweet spot,
the soft underbelly
of a grey and troubled world,
somehow my
words
comfort
me.
Diana - April 23, 2015
Copyright © Diana Burkholder | Year Posted 2015
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Diana Burkholder Poem
Hand to hand
combat
with dragons,
coiling from the cracks
in your past,
and winding
upward,
like ribbons of smokey numbness.
Is little
left by now?
I remember...
and I forget,
and I hope
you have tucked
them -
all snugly in bed.
April 16, 2015
Copyright © Diana Burkholder | Year Posted 2015
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Diana Burkholder Poem
Mother and child
scoot across the boardwalk
baby safe in belly as she runs -
the day is precious
and blue.
Ancient lovers
dance slowly
and deliberately,
down the walkway,
heads down,
chatting, discussing,
being with his arm
dropped gently
across her shoulder
like a statement -
a special spot he always finds
to comfort.
My own tears
come
uncomplicated,
(time never waits)
bitter
sweet.
August 15, 2015
Copyright © Diana Burkholder | Year Posted 2015
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