24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Blissfull fireflies
Dance in the rain
Watching you go
No longer in pain
A moment in time
Captured
Like a butterfly
Emerging from its cocoon
Seasons change, and end
Only to begin again
Your soul forever near
Appearing unexpectedly
As a rainbow in the rain
gj
‘Sixty is the new forty!’
– Doctors office fashion magazine headline, 2019
I just turned sixty.
Years of age
not degrees on a sextant
though in my rudderless state
charting a one-eighty
through late middle-age
trying to find a job
befitting my experience
multiple talents
ability to move, mold, lead
others to successful
outcomes
Sixty is the new forty what?
Forty winks?
Forty lashes?
Forty days and forty nights?
Dubious are those that
would employ me
that my thinking, attitudes
skill-sets would have me
out-of-synch with
younger-than-me-peers
Though I am appreciative to
those that simply
ask the question
I am equally as perturbed at
those who vacillate
implying Paleozoic values
intoning as perverse mantra
millennials and youthful as
though a bottle of
five-buck-chuck offers
similar value to differentiation
by vintage, what it goes
best with
There is no dust on
this bottle
but there will be in my wake
as I head for the door with
an I’ll-stop-you-right-there
‘thanks, but no thanks.’
– Mark L. Lucker
© 2019
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd
I want to be a dandelion—
bright, resilient, blooming.
I want to scatter,
to wait for the wind
that will continue my cycle.
I want to die. To live.
Found a place
Found part of the funding
Found the architect
Found the geobiologist
Everything is going so ( too? )
Quickly
Be careful what you ask for
They said
You might just get it
“You better be ready”
They said
For what you ask
What has been a magickal
Is how easy it has been to
Attract all the right people
Needed to achieve that project
It was as easy as a small talk here
And a small talk there
I use to hate small talk
Now I am seamlessly turning them into massive ones
Your Dream, Beyond
…
If I listen to your song
Will you listen to mine?
If I expose myself to your kind
Will you do the same?
If a picture is worth those thousand words
And the picture on this cover is it
Dare I write that I am not interested
In things that look…weird?
I shall listen to your song
And keep an open mind
And when it’s over?
Maybe I’ll respond again!
It starts slowly and then builds and builds.
Pick it apart slowly, really, really, listen.
Let it lull you into a state of pure peace.
Forget the skyscrapers, the mountains, the monuments.
Forget it all because, in this blissful moment, it is just you.
There is nothing bigger than you, nothing smaller.
Everything is one, striding along melodiously.
With each change in notes, feel you, yes you, change.
You roll down a hill, the sun dipping low on the horizon.
Your giggles can’t be tamed, the dry grass in your hair frames your face.
No worries.
In this moment, everything is okay.
Tears fill your eyes, and sobs spill from your lips.
Holding yourself tight, a crescendo of emotion.
And the song starts again.
I entertained a demon
that appeared by my bedside
lurking over me
I let it run its nails down my spine
My fascination remained
something I believe I was born with
My stories of Love questioned its existence
months later he returned
with his bagged promises
only to tear them open
shredding “us” for certain
Depression
is like being trapped
in a cardboard box
if I were small enough to fit
in the boxes from amazon
that arrive full of cat food cans
taped shut
no ventilation
the darkness
playing tricks on me
strange shapes dancing along
my eyelids
when I scratch at the sides
and tiny rays of light
manage to creep through
they are blinding
causing my skin to glow
in a tiny constellation of stars
the box proves
to be impermanent
and I scratch harder
There’s a demon inside me, always on the prowl
The pitter-pat of little feet
Echoes off the hardwood floor
Her big brown eyes look up at me
From just outside the office door
“It’s nappytime!” she seems to say
Although she utters not a word
She climbs my legs onto my lap
Ensuring ev’ry grunt gets heard
She beckons, “Mommy, time for bed!”
With her tiny yet full-bodied sigh
Too tired to sit, she’s had enough
And rests her head on Mommy’s thigh
“Okay, you win, time for a nap!”
I smile and softly stroke her head
Picking the dog up off my lap,
My muse and I crawl into bed.
Honeybun, aka My Muse