The Poetry Marathon

Heading out to perform today’s ceremony
I am told ‘hope it goes without a hitch’
with a wink akin to telling an actor
‘break a leg’

Though hitching up people is what I do
stating that sounds cowboyish
there are metaphors there
to corral

I find great joy in certifying my couples’
commitments to forever – however
long that may be – my
track record, solid

Eschewing most conventions is my
stock in trade, pushing more
envelopes than small town
postal clerk

I have guided couples in tying knots with
satin braids, boat mooring rope;
poured sand in jars, dirt
into buckets

If the metaphor fits, we can wear it – all
in the name of unity – if it makes a
visual point we only need
vows, amen

“You may kiss!” My ending proclamation
leaves out person-to-person
specificity, as I always trust
my audience

I’ve never stated ‘we are gathered here’
not once invited objections
nor asked ‘who gives this . . . ‘
save for one

bride honoring her culturally-bound father
and while I cringed, she was
satisfied, all there knew
he was too

So today I will head out noting with irony
not having a hitch in proceedings
while getting whomever
joyfully hitched

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2023
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

Metaphorically speaking
she is a couch potato with
a heart of gold
answering siren song of
heart-tugging
tear-jerking
infomercial paeans to
starving children
abandoned pets
endangered land
forking over credit card
access with every
channel change
racking up enough points
to travel the world
times over
yet never leaving
her living room
therein proving irony
most always stranger
than fiction
even when the facts
don’t get in the way

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2023
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

The greetings
social media onslaught
best wishes, memes
‘speed limit birthday
plethora of road sign pics
55 M-P-H
vintage
‘Stay alive, drive 55’ ads

Amused, bemused
not feeling the urgency,
amusement that just
fifty had provided
no black balloons
taped to my work desk
no grim reaper cards
I could only remind folks
fifty-five isn’t old . . .
if you’re a tree
to laughter only my own

Now, just a few torn-off
calendar pages from
the big six-five
I wonder more about
how much future remains
career wise
opportunities abound yet
I am limited, it seems
in eyes of others

Experience, wisdom be
workplace damned
‘times have changed?’
So have I

Old friends and peers
same vintage
spouting woes of time
infirmities
same social medias
and newer ideations
more bitter, less willing
to see opportunity

My mailboxes
snail and electronic
filled daily with
insurance and sign-up
deadlines
sixty-five gifting me an
entirely new vocabulary
plan this, part that

Every month the
calendar flips I find
new reminders to
encourage those
who surround me that
sixty-five is coming
yeah,
but leave the angst to
someone else
come April, let’s all go
have a beer
you can bring a cake
I won’t even mind
if the frosting is black

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2023
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

Late at night, driving through wilderness
a little shack, glowing with light
beacon in middle of nowhere – cue theremin

The road diverges on either side of the shack
I am headed in, does anyone ever come out?

I stop, maybe a hundred feet short of the split
throat dry, mind racing, inner voice rising
irrational fear and primal ear hairs reactive
sweaty palms clench, unclench steering wheel

Calming as I remember I am traversing
remote, protected wilderness I ease off brakes
inch toward the little cabin, figuring to laugh
with the park ranger who probably sees
many such as I, approaching with trepidation
though there remains in my head a lingering,
gnawing fear from too many teen movies
inexplicably, reflexively slamming on brakes

I become acutely aware of self-palpitations
feel the sweat oozing from forehead
dryness of mouth akin to desert hiking
irrational ‘it will eat me’ while
contemplating gunning my car right past
whatever horrors real or imagined
inhabit this remote bastion of desolation
simultaneously reminding myself how
silly such unwarranted fear is simply
imagination run amok even as I become
aware of suddenly sweat-stained armpits
surely now showing on blood red shirt
it’s gonna eat me
I again take my foot off the brake
advance toward whatever awaits, aware
that devils take many forms, evil can
often be found wearing khakis and hats
I pull alongside the cottage, prepared
to gun it away from who, whatever
is in there as the window slides open I
croak out an edgy ‘How are you tonight?’

“Great” says the young woman in crisp
khaki shirt, wide brimmed hat
“Did you guys remember the sauce
and the fries this time?!”

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2023
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

Awake for over twenty-four hours
at work on a project
pulling an all-nighter
far easier when I was far younger

My clock got sluggish at three A.M.
and all I hear in my
head is Cat Stevens
singing ‘Morning has Broken…’

I need to add
‘… and there aint enough
Gorilla Glue in Minnesota to fix it.’

so while I wholeheartedly agree
with Mister Stevens
maybe I’ll just stay awake.

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2022
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

I once read a book by a guy who
turned fifty, went to circus camp
trained to be a trapeze artist
most difficult lesson to learn
was to let go of the bar
simple concept; if
you don’t let go
you don’t fly

the metaphor
was obviously
all about the times
in life that we should
let go of whatever but can’t
hard to discern difference
fly/fall – can’t let go
a fascinating read
he told how
difficulties in learning to
let go holds most of us
back in some way
tightened grip
no flight

While I have never been on trapeze
I have certainly struggled many times
with letting go and hanging on
two very different
concepts and
while I’ll probably
never learn trapeze
I have in large
part learned to losen my grip –
with purpose and promise

there comes a time when
you just need to
let it go
if nothing else
give your arms
a little bit of a rest

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2022
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

Preaching tenderness
he smiled at her, steaks on grill
now picnic for one

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2022
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

Hobbits famously tell of their
dietary habits
especially mornings
most definitely
second breakfast

Not living in a cozy shire
nor having large
fairly hairy feet
I can still speak to the
efficacy of breakfast two

For second breakfast
simply put
is actually fifth coffee
or sixth coffee
depending on cup size

second breakfast/fifth coffee
depending on day
also serves as
placeholder between
wake-up and first nap or

first nap and second nap
or even couch nap
and porch nap
not to be confused with
porch coffee and

deck coffee, a decidedly
enhanced fresh
take on additional
morning sustenance and
just pass the damn sugar

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2022
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

“Come in, she said I’ll give ya shelter from the storm..”
– Bob Dylan

I have never had much use
for umbrellas
keeping rain at bay
as antithetical
to a poet as
sunscreen to a snowman
I need no portable canopy
except for thoughts
let it rain, pour
in my words you’ll find
shelter
from your storm

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2022
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

O friends, please more of these sounds!
Let us shout more joyful cheers,
More cheers full of joy!
Joy!
Joy!
Joy, bright spark of these nine innings
Denizens of the baseball field!
Team-inspired we tread
Within thy white-lined diamond.
Baseball’s power re-unites
All that losing has divided,
All fans become brothers,
Under the sway of thy gentle swings.
Whoever has created
An abiding friendship
Or has won
An afternoon alone at a baseball game

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2022
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd