Concerto

I am watching the rain
falling, in torrents
cascading off my roof
ala Niagara Falls
the images are overlays
the same, yet
incredibly dissimilar,

as are the sounds
water crashing off roof
to the soggy ground
the rain itself, pelting
glass, the walls, the roof
thunder roils the tableau

and I enjoy the pitch-
perfect harmonies of
an early morning rainstorm.

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2017
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

All three

There are times – frequent –
even after three decades, more
where you wonder what they
would say, how they would react
to a given moment, my situation

sit-downs full of wisdom never
the style of any of them
they lived life, in an honest,
straightforward way, taking pains
to assure that I did as well

An only child, I was the focus
the one who learned how to
fish, saw, chop, hammer, build,
play cards, bowl, love baseball.

Love life, give it your best. Live.

Every once in a while, I still hear a
voice; dad, Gramps, grandpa Ivar
mixing and matching each to the
situation at hand, the moment

Long since passed from the scene
I can always rely on what they left me;
for safekeeping, and to draw on;
a whole lot of themselves

 

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2017
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

Not in the least

Claims made by
fishermen
politicians
guys on a prom date

can be taken
at their word

if the words are
unspoken
firsthand
supported by three
corroborating
witnesses

backed up by video
duly notarized

void
where prohibited
or English is spoken
and understood

words to the wise from
folks in the know

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2017
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

Un Natural

Visiting a city you once knew
can be daunting
the familiar still nearly so
but so much has changed
the wild edges of town
we traversed as kids, tamed
the only thing wild is the
buffalo wing restaurant

Tall grasses near the reservoir
man-made lake with all
the natural kind offered a boy
frogs, fishing, a chance to swim
now neatly manicured
orderly in its faux naturalism

Our bike rides there would take
nearly an hour; little more
than wooded patches, vacant lots
between there and our homes

Now there are bike trails
part of a system geared toward
commuters more than young boys
seeking to explore, learn, ride
now families have places to picnic
tables, benches, neatly trimmed
grass, fancy playgrounds

Efforts at ‘preserving’ nature
seem even more hollow a gesture
when the bright green of the grass
shiny black of the asphalt
have taken over the color palette
Nature has become a
home improvement store
paint department –  natural colors
given way to vibrancy,  neon

In the store, at the lake
give me earth tones, baby

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2017
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

Spacey

When I was a kid
space was cool
the 60’s found us
amidst a
‘space race’
which we won,
landing on the moon
the summer I was ten

A few short years later
we were spaced out
taking trips of
cosmic variety
without ever leaving
our paneled, basement
rec rooms

adulthood and its
attendant
responsibilities
had us all
needing some space
so we looked,
fitfully
trying to find some

now middle age
has come, gone –
I think
you were
saying something –
right?

sorry
I guess I just
spaced it out

Table for two

“Two, please”
he had uttered the phrase
countless times
in so many places around town
squiring so many
different women

money never a problem
success, women
followed him all his life
joined him in misadventures
big, bigger – even bigger

a big tipper, gregarious
everyone liked to see him
his rotating cast of
companions, ever amusing,
keeping waiters, barkeeps
ever guessing as to his ‘type’
his only consistency being
his standard request
“Table for two, please.”

years passed
time took its toll
the world had changed
his kind were no longer the
‘go to’ for masculine
reference

he still haunted the same
places
knew some
of the same faces
still requested
“Table for two, please.”
though often as not
he dined alone

One night, a favorite
dinner spot, an old
friend having cancelled
“Table for two”
found him alone in his
duality
looking around, he
saw families,
tables full of
two, three generations

He ordered a cocktail
sat there, listened to
the din of
boisterous laughter
sons, daughters,
grandparents,
grandchildren

surrounded by a cacophony
he knew he
would never grasp
he just sat there, tightly
gripping, but not drinking
his drink
as tears rolled down
his face.

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2017
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

Direction

Lost,
he was for a long, long time
never stopping to ask
where am I?

Visiting locales covering
a broad expanse
he kept moving, moving
compiling souvenirs
at every turn
things he wanted,
had to have

insatiable
was his appetite
something to
bring home, knowing
the kids would ask, “Father
would did you bring us?”

He did not wish
to disappoint

But the longer
he stayed away, the more
his collections
and the urge to feed it
outgrew his resources,
the ability to
lug it all around

returning home
he was greeted warmly
the kids had
long ago stopped caring
about the gifts,
trinkets
they were glad to
have him home

yet he needed to share
what had become
so precious
all consuming
and he saw in an
instant how
wrong he had been

“We never wanted
an empire”
they all concurred, adding
to his immense surprise,
“We just wanted you,
at home,
daddy.”

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2017
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

Rune rumored

It is said that Odin, god of
all Norse, discovered runes;
mystic language of the gods
painstakingly carved in stone,
for posterity

historians noting soberly that
Odin was tuned in to his time,
his people, for, in his name is
noted, in multiple ancient locales;
‘for a good time, rune Idun.’

Forever undermining his chance
for peace in Valhalla

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2017
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

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