Author Archives: poetluckerate

About poetluckerate

I am a poet, writer and teacher who moved from Minnesota to New Orleans in 2008 to help rebuild the worst public school system in America. It is a huge challenge to say the least. Writing - in many different forms and ways - has saved me untold thousands in therapy bills throughout the years. Reading my writings may do either the same - or just the opposite - for you. Read at your own risk, as I do not offer writer malpractice insurance. ;-{) I hope you enjoy what you read here.

Midway? All the way. (Love is… #39)

Love is like a day at the fair flashing neon, loud music, exotic sights, smells, sounds, enticements, leering inducements of all sorts adrenaline-pumping sensory overload You know you shouldn’t overindulge but you do and then you get sick but what … Continue reading

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corresponding

I am catching my second wind my longing for home going back has overtaken my wanderlust not that my desire to move to see, experience so much more than I already have has waned, run out of gas in the … Continue reading

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Traveling

On family trips when I was eight, nine plastic, primary-color cowboys, Indians, soldiers, animals fought and romped in a synthetic, nappy, dark-blue rear-window battlefield meadow Other times, it was a fuzzy ledge on which to lean, and watch the road … Continue reading

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Frogs

  – Mark L. Lucker © 2017 http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

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Put on your shoes

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step”       Laozi Our journey has finally begun there have been fits, starts, delays in getting here; now finally underway, I am ill at ease The irony, not … Continue reading

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1958

Eight-by-ten, glossy Women’s gowns a snowy hue men’s jackets polar-colored pants black, everything else radiant shades of grays drearily brilliant tones off-black, dark-white vibrant portrait in celluloid Twelve adults, a young boy bouffants and buzz cuts, ogling camera, mischievously dead … Continue reading

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Father’s Day Requiem

We never had one of those TV sitcom father-imparts-his-sage wisdom, serious sit-downs that I can recall I have no fatherly counsel fortune-cookie-inclusion viral-meme-worthy wisdom to share rarely proclaiming, “As my daddy used to say…” Sans great punchline parts of my … Continue reading

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Poems my father left me

There is reason, even some rhyme in the stanza, the beat the reading in time of who, what, why he was what he did and why he didn’t why he maybe should’ve not stressing on could’ve Sometimes His groove was … Continue reading

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The pragmatist, ambivalent

Although I suffer from a strong faith it allows me the privilege to not fear death or its obligatory attachments no desire exists within me to see just exactly what lurks in other-side-a-topia I don’t ruminate on who I know … Continue reading

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Old growth

At age seven I nearly killed the pubescent birch tree anchoring our Minneapolis backyard stripping it of all its bark, roots to four feet up – the physical limits of my fanciful reach As Mrs. Kime’s most intrepid first-grader I … Continue reading

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