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. Now, after ten years, I have returned home to my native Midwest. 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.

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

Posted in Family, Uncategorized, Young love | Tagged , , , , ,

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

Posted in Family, Fathers and Sons, Growing up me, Relationships, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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

Posted in Fathers and Sons, Uncategorized | Tagged , , ,

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

Posted in Growing up me, Life, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Small packages (A real-life fable for moms everywhere)

My mom found the dead chipmunk I surreptitiously brought home from the lake at the end of the summer I was ten; lifeless, stripe-tailed rodent in a black-and-blue JC Penney shoebox sarcophagus on which I had scrawled ‘stuff’ – an … Continue reading

Posted in Uncategorized

No French Cuffs

Plaid flannel shirts of my Northwoods youth smelled of beer and pine cones boat motor gasoline and fresh caught sunfish wood smoke and filtered Winstons when I was a kid the intertwined, pungent aromas of cervelat salami plumbers’ grease, house … Continue reading

Posted in Campfire poems, Growing up me, The Lake | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Visionally

Been here too long seen way too much my empathy has decayed piles of rubble-pity hope was a chrysalis birthed ugly butterflies that now flit from dead plant to dead plant Paradox eternal doing right things for eventual wrong reasons … Continue reading

Posted in Introspection, Philosophies, Students and Teachers, Teaching and Learning, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , ,

The sign

Sawed-off fence picket turned sideways points eastward, sort of you are – we are – ‘that way’ if signs are to be believed The sign unaware you have been gone thirty years, plus your house,over twenty anyone driving north on … Continue reading

Posted in Grandparental, Growing up me, The Lake, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , ,

Jarring (Love is… # 71)

Poets have often likened love to roses summer days pastoral scenes other sundry phenomena saccharine sells in toto love is not candy roses sweet imagery clichés violin soundtracks I, having lived love see more esoteric practicality from, for the heart … Continue reading

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What are the Oz?

Historically considering myself the Scarecrow middle-age, circumstance, time have me contemplating fates identifying a more Tin Man persona seeking oil for locked up joints moving clunkily, at times joyously graceful, others grudgingly accepting assistance from my companions – friends who … Continue reading

Posted in Contemporary Life, Introspection, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , ,