Outside the lines

You opened me like aBrokenCrayons3
flimsy book
thumbed through pages of
boldly outlined
caricatures
mercurially finding

me, you

chose your weapon from
boxed arsenal

Sharp,new-to-the-point
unused you
busted-pieces me

You are 64-box of Crayolas
using all the colors
to colorfully
flesh out the person
that is me

pictures that became us

showing all the restraintBrokenCrayons1
of a four-year-old
for boundaries
flair of Matisse-nuance
you have boldly
blithely refused to
color inside the lines

no paint-by-numbers
sloppy
is sensual
borderlines are
for the faint-of-heart

are is in the
eye of the beholder

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2020
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

#romance #romanticpoetry #poetryforValentinesDay

Midway? All the way. (Love is… #39)

Love is 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 a ride, oh what a ride!

Faster! Faster! Faster!
Up! Down! All around! Spinning!
Dropping! Whirling! Faster! Faster!
Spinning around, wanting desperately
to get off but can’t until the ride stops

But by then it is way too late.

You are walking down the midway
woozy, but needing to eat
everything and nothing looks appetizing
you grab some cotton candy

Love is cotton candy in summer heat
sweet, sticky, satisfying – always a mess.

No matter how hard you try to keep your
fingers clean, it is always a mess
a great, big, sticky, gooey,
I’m-here-now-wouldn’t-miss-it
for-anything-ever-what-a-day mess.

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2018
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

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 serious, mindfully aware
playful magnitude of the day

fighting off hangovers
practicing feigned solemnity
due charmed couple at center

She: youthful, stunning purity
dress, pearls, teeth, aura
He: counterfeit waiter miscast
starring male in tuxedo

a split second before
being frozen in time and
now tarnished frame
someone must’ve blurted
“Smile!”

If a thousand words
barely equal a single, old
Kodak portrait, the
bold, vivid, monochromatic
color does provide, with
absolute certainty

The camera never lies

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

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 serious, mindfully aware
playful magnitude of the day

fighting off hangovers
practicing feigned solemnity
due charmed couple at center

she: youthful, stunning purity
dress, pearls, teeth, aura
he: counterfeit waiter miscast
starring male in tuxedo

a split second before
being frozen in time and
now tarnished frame
someone must’ve blurted
“Smile!”

If a thousand words
barely equal a single, old
Kodak portrait, the
bold, vivid, monochromatic
color does provide, with
absolute certainty

the camera never lies

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

Morning coffee

Saturday

Early, but not too
I bring her
a cup of coffee
rich stuff,
the good stuff
our special
Saturday blend

She stirs gently,
like the brew
setting the mug
on her nightstand
pheromones blend with
aromatic Arabica

Saturday morning
alchemy dissolves into
Saturday afternoon

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

Love at the middle ages

Being your knightknight1
in shining armor
often means more
work for you
pounding out dents
knocking off rust
slapping in Bondo
minimizing creaks
knowing just when,
where to squirt WD40

There is nobility in
your exasperation at
my Quixotic nature
acceptance of my
clunky, clanky chivalry;
romantic caprices
challenge your practicality
whimsically, we joust
word lances of affection,knight4
never winner-take-all

M’lady
in your loving hands
I shine
tarnish becomes patina
you are the damsel
that rescued me, lo
those many years ago
abid, abyd, abyde,
my love

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

No fish story (for Amy)

I am not
fish6carping here
from poet’s perch;
people often find my
reel, romantic tale fishy

Love is like shooting fish
in a barrel – this I have known
for long I have been one with the
proverbial oaken-casked floundererfish8

I am no fish out of water here
nor do I have any other fish to fry
there are, I know, other fish in the sea
but I have my catch; she caught me

you can take the bait on this:
looking for deeper meaning
in my metaphors is a
fishing expedition

loving her has
always been
easy: shefish2
lured,
I bit

hook,
line,
sinker

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

Valentine’s Day, approacheth

GB beerAdrift

Over a beer, I blithely told
a friend bemoaning a lost love
there were plenty of
“other fish in the sea”

unmoved, he was, as I noted
“there are also tires, discarded
refrigerators and sunken oil tankers”

Thus inspired he raised his glass,
made a toast; “Let’s hear it” said he
“for the girls of the flotsam.”

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


 

Midway!? All the Way!

Love is like a day at the fairmidwayalltheway2

flashing neon, loud music, exotic
sights, smells, sounds, enticements

sensory overload

You know you shouldn’t over indulge
but you do and then you get sick
but what a ride, oh what a ride!

Faster! Faster! Faster!
Up! Down! All around! Spinning!
Dropping! Whirling! Faster! Faster!
Spinning around, wanting desperately
to get off but can’t until the ride stops

a disembodied voice reminds you to
‘Stay in your seat until the ride comesmidwayalltheway
to a complete stop!

But by then it is way too late.

You are walking down the midway
you are woozy, but need to eat
everything and nothing looks appetizing
and the first thing you grab is cotton candy

Love is cotton candy in the summer heat
sweet, sticky, satisfying – always a mess.

No matter how hard you try to keep your
fingers clean, it is always a great, big
sticky, gooey, wouldn’t-miss-it mess.

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


 

Smörgåsbord

smorgasbord2There are many
different
kinds of love

puppy
brotherly
unrequited
passionate
secret
eternal
young
first
true

having oftsmorgasbord1
indulged in
at least
a smattering
of each morsel
mixing entrées
salads
desserts on
the same plate

I am woefully
unqualified
to distinguish
tasty from savory
overcooked from
underdone yucky
from delectable

still I happily
grab a fresh plate
for another pass

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

 

Newlyweds ago

burnedpizza3Loft apartment,
late Saturday afternoon
spontaneity interrupted
by shrill, continual

oven timer buzz

“Pizzas done” says she
“But I’m not” replies he

not-rhythmic, static
range-buzzer drone not
disrupting tempo of early
life-together moral

they learned how easily
heat, afterglow can
turn three-dollar frozen
pizza to charcoal

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2015
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

 

Pic-ah-nic bas-ket! (Love is… #161)

friedchicken1Love is
fried chicken

you’re never
certain –

follow the rules
of etiquette…

…or just dive in,
use your fingers

savoryfriedchicken2
satisfying
finger-lickin’
chew-on-bone

yummy, messy
heart-healthy
artery clogging
oh-so-tasty

Love is
fried chicken
friedchicken3
but when all is
said and done
just what do
you do with the
gnawed on
bones?

Mark Lucker