New poems by Julie Dickson

I Exist

I exist because I was born

into a world I knew nothing of

to parents previously forlorn,

untrained at expressing love.

In my attempt to please, to know,

evolving into compliance -

adapted behavior long ago

existing on self-reliance.

Nestled safely in protective shell,

I rarely braved the outside world –

a bit of a loner, but just as well,

inside my cocoon, I was curled

until unlocked I slowly emerged

into a fully-lit room, I stepped

on shaky ground, although I was urged

to express myself, was clearly inept.

With infantile steps I progressed,

a new student of the world at best.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

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Tide Bracelets

Three piers straight as planted corn

in rows with water line striped pilings -

no crusty barnacles are left behind,

just dark circles like bracelets, wide

or narrow; they will be covered

as the waters rise, sloshing against

the rocks and creosote coated pilings

until only the dock surfaces remain.

The decking weathered and spotted

with remnants of fish guts and more,

the “white-washed” reminder of gulls

and cormorants as they stand in the breeze,

spreading their faux-eagle wings to dry.

Below the surface, barely visible posts

now dark, underwater sentries with

silent sea turtles and bottom feeders

hiding in shadows between pilings,

biding their time until the turn -

when the tide bracelets reappear.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

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The Price

Waking alone

on this day here at home

is something that's tough to bear.

In all the years gone

strive to carry on,

at times I cannot share

this path I carved out

even though I had doubt

once my decision was made;

I followed on my own,

the road I was shown,

despite the high price that I paid.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

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4 Seasons Haiku

1

Worms fear early birds

Tree buds emerge silently

Mother Nature wakes

2

Sunlight permeates

Cicadas echo in song

Snake basks in the heat

3

Quiet garden walk

Leaves rustle among the pines

Poetry prevails

4

White blanket like lace

Ice shimmers on frozen pond

Fish slumber below

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH

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Dark Circles

Across the room, her face deep in shadow

even where I stand, dark circles are clear,

her eyes hooded and swollen but I know

that nothing said, no comfort will she hear –

Won’t erase dark circles beneath those eyes,

won’t bring a smile to lips drawn to a pout,

the sorrow born from behind her disguise.

I struggle to discover but without

Any idea, words not forthcoming

until a blaze of yellow cut through air,

a bouquet of daffodils- becoming,

I carry to her, perhaps to declare

And when the smile from her breaks free at last

I sense a brief respite, break from her past.

Julie A. Dickson

Exeter, NH