Vestiges

As kids, we tied our fatescokebottlesinase
to various inanimate
yet participatory objects

spun bottles
Ouija boards
dandelions

professed proof of true loves
brought cryptic messages
all interpreted with certainty

until the imagined magic
vintage-william-fuld-mystifying-oracle-ouija-board-w-wooden-planchette-1938-a84507e57559af0289d9fc2a820d59dcwore off leaving us with our
first taste of skepticism

but the bottle could be
redeemed for the deposit,
the eye to the beyond a
table for your sister’s Barbie,
wilted weed went to seed

youth can leave you jaded
if you play the games
forgetting it is all in fun

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2016
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd


‘Vestiges’ is just a sample.

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From my book ‘Lost, found, holding on’ Available in paperback or Kindle http://lrd.to/p6rxzwIMnD

 

Gathered Pinecones

From my book ‘Gathered Pinecones’ on sale now, in paperback or Kindle   http://lrd.to/gathered-pinecones

Moored

Morning sun of summer
wafting through open, lake-front window
each day awakening with a squint, gasp
soft-focus of seven-tree birch stand
backlit by various shades of dawn filtered
through tall jack pines on Huxtable Point,
opposite, eastern side, of Horseshoe Lake

most mornings I lay there
letting the day begin its work
soaking in, absorbing rebirth

some days the siren call of loon, heron
splash of jumping bass, rhythmic slap of
lake water on sandy beach lured me
to end of sky-blue-painted dock
to sit, letting the sun, new day,
envelope me in loving embrace
old friends meeting for the first time

…sitting’ in the mornin’ sun,
…waitin for the day that comes
watchin’ the day roll in…

same tune, mornings, every summer
same window, bed, dock,
same morning sun
no two alike, ever matched

I, twelve-year-old Otis minus angst,
still unaware of melancholy, knowing
unequivocally, sitting on the dock
at the lake was never just wasting time

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2016
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

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Lost, found, holding on

From my book ‘Lost, found, holding on’
Available in paperback or Kindle
http://lrd.to/p6rxzwIMnD

Salonica, goneica

She loves me, she loves me not
Played that game as a kid, for fun
with and without the flower
played it frequently later, for keeps
Won once or twice

I have over picked my life’s quota
of prophetic daisies, come out
on either side of the nursery rhyme
sometimes the right verse,
sometimes the wrong time

it blossomed, it went to seed
it blossomed, it went to seed
it blossomed, it went to seed

Same song, rarely heard second verse

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2016
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

COVER FINAL 2