24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Good dog and bad dog
Both are inside of me
Lurking for attention
Barking, hawling
Good me must win evil me
And become powerful
Oh yes!
Constant struggle
One over the other
No peace, no joy !
My good must meet
Evil me, middle way
Harmonizing, making friends
That is inner peace,
Joy, wisdom
I would sit on a wooden bar stool
in the doorway to the small office at
the back of the little donut shop
I worked at in high school
the doorjamb, perfect for leaning
in boredom, or sleepiness
as I awaited fresh customers
seeking coffee, crullers
passing time was easy
working nights, not many folks
out, up for fried, sticky, carbs
bottomless-styrofoam-cups
of twenty-five cent coffee
to my right, a notepad and pen,
cup of Coke, single raised-glazed
resting on stainless-steel;
shiny, sterile
boss’ donut roll-out, cutting
surface by morning,
my writing desk by night
stanzas and personal passages
punctuated by sporadic sales
fueled by Donut House regulars;
neighborhood cops, bus drivers
of the number seven route,
delaying departures for
a quick cup and a Bismarck;
paper-grading college professor,
fry cook from the
chicken place three doors down
a nurse who worked nights
a few locals, just hanging out
each had stories to tell
I always had ears to listen
pen, paper to retell, transform
what I heard, what I saw
that old, wooden barstool a
guru-rock from which I dispensed
conversation, teen wisdom
soaking in more than gave
every once in a while I can
sit on an old, wooden barstool
and be back behind that counter
where the jingling of the bell
signaled a fresh interaction,
potential for a new sale and a tale
and after all these years
notebooks filled, books published
there is no thrill quite like sitting
in an old donut shop, writing
or just puling up an old barstool,
someplace, because
I can still smell the grease
– Mark L. Lucker
© 2017
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd
Take me back
back in time
to the place
I once called
my playground.
The air tasted
of salt and summer.
The wind
continuously blew
as the waves
greeted the shoreline.
…and it always felt
like the waves were
playing catch up
with me.
Almost wetting my feet.
I spent many
a long summer day
building my dreams
on the foundations
of sandcastles.
As the high tide set in,
the sea looked
wild and free in the
way the wave’s
reach towards the shoreline.
Marking its territory as
if to say, “I was here.”
I always
wondered where
were the waves going?
What’s the hurry?
Always pulling back…
Why can’t they stay
a while and keep me
company…
Help me build a sandcastle
or two….
Sunsets were always magnificent,
little as I was, the sunset hues
still amazed me.
Like the sky was God’s palette
and he painted a brand new but,
slightly different sunset, everyday.
I’d always wonder,
didn’t God ever run of the colors
that made the sunset hue?
j.r.m©
How It Starts
It starts by dimming the lights,
breathing picks up pace,
his body holds me tight,
while hands caress my face.
Breathing picks up pace.
Sweat trickles my brow,
while hands caress my face.
Silence, except the cat’s meow.
Sweat trickles my brow.
Our chemistry ignites.
Silence, except the cat’s meow
each and every night.
Our chemistry ignites;
it starts by dimming the light.
Each and every night
his body holds me tight.
This time capsule in my mind’s tomb
I step inside my past, and loom
grounded by olive patchwork floor
always slightly off-kilter door
memories of my girlhood room
Do glow-in-the-dark stars illume
the ceiling still? Can I presume
a child pretends there once more
this time capsule in my mind’s tomb
Antique mirror to primp, dare, groom
behold the wild flower bloom
paneled walls too thin to ignore
the chaos of those days of yore
Will I return? I don’t assume
this time capsule in my mind’s tomb
NOT MINE
I felt your hands once, but not as a friend or lover.
I felt your body pressed against mine, in a game of moves
and counter moves.
Silently, secretly… I wanted you to stay there forever.
To embrace you, to feel the warmth and the rightness of you.
I cursed the mocking hands of time as your comforting presence left mine,
reminding me of the void within that I had forgotten so long ago.
I felt your arms around me once or twice,
feeling slightly more than a cordial embrace.
I closed my eyes and breathed you in, not wanting to say goodbye.
I couldn’t tell you that my arms didn’t want to let you go,
I couldn’t tell you that my heart hoped you didn’t want to let go of me, too.
So I smiled and laughed, a carefully constructed mask put in place.
You could see me, but not the tearing of what I felt underneath.
The need to protect you was a compelling force, so a facade went up,
and every handkerchief of interest I could drop stayed within my pockets.
I think of you every day, though I shouldn’t.
Nothing inappropriate or improper, but even so…
You are not mine, so I cannot be yours.
Not even in my dreams.
The truth of that ringing the bluest of tunes through the hollows of my soul.
Though love does not truly hold your heart,
I do not wish it to ever be broken.
Stand tall and strong, man of the earth, for you are.
You are like the Oak tree who has learned to bend as a Willow.
What draws me to you, if not this kind of strength?
I do not know if you see me from afar, or if you even think of me.
Selfishly, I could hope for that.
But I am not selfish, nor can I make you see me if you do not already.
I do not have a halo of light surrounding me,
nor an air of superficiality pouring from my being.
Just because I yearn for you – though I can never tell you –
doesn’t mean I’m the kind of woman you would ever yearn for in return.
These feelings are irrational and illogical, I know.
I do not know you or your depths, nor do you know me or mine.
And yet I wish… I wish I could know you and all the secrets you hide.
I would guard them with my heart, with my life.
I wish you could know me and the abyss of secrets I hold,
but only if you would guard me with your heart and your life.
I wish for the opportunity to discover what could’ve been,
if time and circumstance had been on my side.
Insanely, impossibly, I feel as though you are my missing piece.
No… it is not a delusion, nor am I insane. I feel the impossible truth of it.
Somehow, you could complete the puzzle that is me.
If you should ever find yourself free, think of me.
If you were mine, I could be yours.
Together, we could discover the worlds that lay at our feet,
and we could know an all consuming love,
that not even eternity could quench.
— Saskia Lynge / Hour 2
I just want you to know I understand why you felt the need to ostracize yourself.
It’s never easy and it never will be.
I know it wasn’t to hurt me. I know it wasn’t to scar the world.
It was out of some misplaced sense of self righteousness
And maybe that’s what we all need right about now.
Wear wedding dress to launderette, strip off to petticoat, ask to wash wedding dress in machines of heart broken customers, but offer to buy washing powder to be polite, wash til white dress is dirty grey. Take divorce photo with anyone who happens to be there. Keep shoes.