24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
forbidden
surrounding me
whether awake or asleep
your eyes, your laughter
your fleeting touch
sears me softly
burns my very soul
feeds the embers of my heart
fueling the broken chamber
pitter pat a skip and a scrap
my breath catches when it stops
(then starts again as usual)
fear fans the flames of my desires
of this I cannot bear to write
it fills me with despair
this forbidden fire
that you have lit…
(do you even care?)
Dear Grandchildren:
There is irony in that the
last thing you will ever forget
will be one of your firsts
crush
love
kiss
sex
broken heart
first to never be forgotten
first to stick with you
first to make you feel like that
first to make you hurt
first to make you feel alive
There is less irony, more fact
knowing that the firsts will
teach you the most
honor you the least
cause discomfort
provide perspective
be impossible to explain to others
yet explain everything there is to know
These things I tell you
because they are true
because I know
Love,
Grandpa
P.S.
Don’t tell your parents
you learned any of
this from me
– Mark L. Lucker
© 2016
Poem TWENTY-TWO has been removed and now appears on chocolate is a verb, 23 August 2016.
Like most things,
you’ve lost your charm,
but keep smiling
and I’ll go home
with you anyway.
Or at least to your
car where we’ll
fog the windows
and smoke
your last cigarette.
Bless us with the joy.
Of your love.
The healing of our soul’s.
So we can see the glories kingdom.
Of the music of harp’s that play the music of your.
Love.
The most beautiful music it is the music of your.
Love.
Crouching and watching
Gracefully stalking vermin
Please don’t viral meme me
Sleep
Awaiting me
Trying to sprinkle
Pixie dust
To induce slumber
Write a poem to go with one of the following five titles.
Möbius Strip
The Night is For Sleeping
Blue Clouds
Station
At the Diner
I’ll concede, I will show you mine if you show me yours
But I promise when I open myself up, there won’t be anything pretty living inside
nothing you will want to take home to your parents
or display on your wall
or in front of your friends
I promise there won’t be flowers or sunrises
There won’t be oos and ahhs that will drop you to your knees
But a certain darkness that might seduce you
Disguised as poetry, wet sticky words
attached to my core
waiting to picked and displayed for you
I will show you mine, but I dont think you will like it
deep fried questions
greet serious pundits
who want denial
but accept gorging
in place of sweet
autocracy always