Mark Lucker – Page 6 – The Poetry Marathon

Mark Lucker
Mark Lucker

Hi kids. 2023 will mark my EIGHTH Poetry Marathon. Glorious. Started as a whim - now it is a yearly grail. Not only have I written lots of poetry, but I have produced multiple books directly related to the marathon. I have developed a large cadre of online, creative, inspirational friends. The list tends to grow at least a little every year - but that core group from 2015? LOVE 'em. Yeah, doing this again. Labor Day weekend? Labor of love. And exhilaration. See you there!

Holiday Hmms… (A Troika) Prompt 10

I propose ‘polar
prestidigitation’ for
‘magic of Christmas’

Are Santa’s elves
still pissed with LOTR
oddball depictions?

Was Christmas Eve the
one wearing a wreath instead
of her normal fig leaves?

Cheese (aged Kilmerish)

I think that I shall never eat
A poem lovely as most cheese.

A cheese whose hungry body is prest
Against my taste buds, Mmmm – the best!

A cheese that sits with God all day,
And learns to sit, and sit, and age;

A cheese smoothly covered in waxy lacquer
Can be sliced and placed atop a cracker!

Upon whose bosom mold has sat;
Who intimately lives with fat.

Poems are made by folks like me,
But only cows, goats, sheep, buffalo,
and cheesemakers can make cheese!

What’s at play? (hour 14 prompt)

I was on the road today
city-to-city
with ample time
due to detours
and errands
spent driving
through
smaller, rural
communities as
well as city and suburban
neighborhoods

It is summer
the weather good
leaving me
puzzled, in dismay
passing
well-stocked parks
equipment filled
playgrounds
baseball diamonds and
soccer fields galore
all devoid of
denizens

We do our children
our society
a disservice by
allowing this disuse
not in
squandering our
resources
but in not letting our
children
squander their time
without putting these
resources
to use

Do’s, don’ts (Hour 22 – Stay Awake Poem)

Contrary to popular belief
I do not need coffee
to wake up in the morning

I NEED MY COFFEE TO BE
ALREDY AWAKE AND ON
THE JOB! WHAT IS WRONG…

Sorry.

I do not need coffee
in order for ME to wake up
in the morning
though it does come in
extremely handy
and is therefor mandatory
in the limited set of
circumstances as such:
*Speaking coherently
*Hearing coherently
*Understanding…
stuff
*Functioning in ways
normally ascribed to
reasonable human
behavior
especially in regards
to the workplace

There are other, very
specific situations
in which coffee is required
should you want any
participatory action from me.

Any deviation from these
specifics as put forth
will be dealt with in the
harshest terms possible in
terms of law, and good sense.

Unless there is no
coffee
rendering all other rationality
moot.
So sayeth the Oracle.
Or Mr. Coffee.

I get those two confused
all the time.

Ode, Dear

An ode by any other name would
Still read just as obsequious
Any great poet writes an epic ode
Any praiseworthy topic will do!
Wordsworth commended duty –
Pope in high praise of solitude
Keats was prolific at acclaiming
the generally obscure; nightingales
(his poetry literally for the birds)
and his lauding of Grecian urns
still spawns underpaid Greek jokes.

Thomas Gray exalted bards while
Shelley extolled the west wind
Forsaking other directional breezes
Neruda was more the commoner
Praising his socks – woolen, as such

Lacking the adrenal verve of praising
Inanimate objects and lesser birds
I considered writing self-reflective
stanzas of indulgent commendation
But my efforts were, alas, for naught
As I discovered that writing an ode
To ones own-self, patting thine own
Back as it were, puts one in need of
Self-congratulatory chiropractic care
Due to overly climatic contortions

In short, to assert such presumption
I am owed an ode is overtly odious.

Not odd (hour 8 prompt)

I think Odysseus got it all wrong
off on his adventures
little planning, reservations
not made in advance
obvious why his trip went badly

Wrong spots, wrong time of year
wrong monsters
a little planning goes a long way
so did Odysseus
but it didn’t have to be

He could’ve brought his son
many spots offer
kids eat/stay free and
there were always things
they could have team-built on

They really needed some decent
father/son time, bonding
fishing, perhaps – or sports
though explaining sirens to mom
would have taken some finesse

Location is everything in regards
to real estate, vacations
Sparta is not Cabo at spring break
when you travel on the cheap
beggars can’t be choosers

The darkness holds no special or
tangential fear for me
though it probably should
for there is huge difference
between the woodlands
I knew growing up and
decidedly urban environment
I live in now

Unrest last year propelled me
into our neighborhood
watch mobilization
observe, don’t engage, report
not heeding that advice we
mostly skipped non-engagement
gently offering pushback to
strangers

Looking back one thing I can say
is that many of us found or
rediscovered affinity for
our city during deepest night
sights, sounds –
same, not the same
teeming with life beyond our
patrols

Bonds if not friendships were
forged in those few weeks
of nocturnal hustle and bustle
we came, we saw, we engaged
we found we liked it
the rhythm, the aura –
neighborhood, nocturnal, alive
wide asleep

Self-portrait

The extremes of who, what I am
DNA, culturally, nature/nurture
all fun to puzzle piece together

What my forebearers did, what
was done to them, is historically
recorded, reported, unresolved

My detective skills sharpened
with time, experience, dumb luck
can be broken down precisely:

Having descended from seafaring
Vikings and diaspora Ashkenazi
my wanderlust is DNA encoded

So, also, my perpetual state of
wondering: should I stop now and
pillage, or simply keep wandering.

Shhh

Just be still; listen
silence a warm companion
intimate in quiet

Do not stir; listen
in solitude, reflection
echoing nothing

Just be still; listen
just listen; learn from yourself
within, do without

It’s out there (hour 7 prompt)

Somewhere
it exists.
In-person if not
in perpetuity

Sightings as
ubiquitous as those
of Sasquatch
similar levels
of proof

As elusive and
mythological as your
typical
four-hoofed
unicorn
possibly as extinct
though
reliable sources say…

It’s out there
somewhere

I know it
and want the proof
not some grainy
old footage
not a
photoshopped
meme

I need actual proof
in the wild
captured and caged
no longer
matters
I know
know in my soul
someone can find
it.

Set a trap
pretend you are
Salome
and bring me
on a platter
silver or melamine
one
good old fashioned
run-of-the-mill
normal.

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