Ed Huck
CONTACT:
Email: cityguy64@gmail.com
BIO:
Edward Huck is a retired political consultant living in Oregon, Wisconsin, with his wife Elaine of 52 years. He is the father of two, Steven and Kirsten, grandfather to four grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. Poetry became his passion upon retirement, and he recently published his first book. The book is in fact a story of how he views his world both past and present. Every poem has a story, and every poem is a story. The commentary is personal, and the poetry reflects the author.
A note from the author: This book was the idea of my daughter Kirsten, a great writer in her own right. I dedicate this poetry to my wife, Elaine, my rock and the love I would not want to live without.
PUBLICATIONS:
Every Poem has a Story.
Poetry
A Day in the Summer of ‘65
The spring had passed
To summer that year of 1965
When we were one year together
And the heat of the day called us to water
We rolled our towels and set afoot
To the shore of the city that gave we two births
Where a sand bed lay await
And the water of the Lake called Michigan
The beach was hot as coal alight
Shoes of rubber covered our soles
Until we found our camp among the many
And laid our rest upon bed made
Here we would lather with oil for babes
Before we knew the consequence
And rotate as on a spit
Until brown covered us like paint
On occasion we would seek the cold
Running full ahead into waves
Wrought by storm yesterday
Into the waters of the Great Lake
A minute no more
For our bodies were extinguished quickly
Like a match snuffed
Returning to towels and the warm beneath
Until our bodies cried enough
We talked and planned
Loving was in the moment
It was ours to share
Returning home ice cream found
We sat and savored
The sweet and the day
Until it was seared in our memory
There has been many a moment
My mind has traveled back
To my home of youth
That day in the summer of ‘65
Blue Monday
It’s Blue Monday
News from a weekend of crazy
Burning my eyes
Raising my blood pressure
Meditation calls
Amercing my mind
In the rhythm of nothing
Letting in the quiet
Like water over the fire
My brain is soothed
The flames of self-righteousness
Doused with a bucket of peace
Molten Java on my pallet
Awakes an inner eye
Allows myself to search
The corners of me
Acceptance that control
Belongs to someone else
Today is Blue Monday
Tomorrow is tomorrow