Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

Hmmm…

  • Stepping in dogma

    Faith is ego True, deep, abiding exclusionary faith is your ego run amok Blind faith is egomaniacal, contrary to belief , less about submission, more simple self-absorption cum-righteousness Believing is good. Absolute certainty, unfortunately, is all about you Read more

  • Gourmond

    God, incarnate – chili con carne? Does God eat ethnic food? The recipe on the bag of beans brags ‘heavenly chili’ so naturally, I question. Read more

  • Done

    The past can hinder it can hurt and taint today and your tomorrows the past can’t paint your life in colors that you can feel but that others see as a much different shade the past can be the cross you bear the hat you wear a welcome companion or unwelcome intruder the past lurks, Read more

  • It’s lunar, man

    Moon Mystical, mesmerizing magical and mighty; moves oceans makes animals howl people aberrant Moon OCD: properly, orderly suspended above us invisibly, yet not flying Moon Flew to it, landed on it found nothing. Moon momentary, nightly mystical, mesmerizing moon Read more

  • Ahhh…huh?

    The moment my life succumbs to logic I will consider it an out-of-body near-death, come-to-the-light experience Sort of a reincarnation of myself at least, as seen by others Read more

  • Vintner

    I am a wine cellar unto myself occasionally decanted as an aged-to-perfection vintage I can at times act the vinegar I am at times sweet, pungent with varietal undertones sometimes I am quite dry an acquired taste not for all Sometimes people label me and state what I should best accompany, what to pair me Read more

  • Love is… (#17)

    Love is an oscillating lawn sprinkler you may have to periodically adjust your positioning maybe adjust the pressure just a bit yet sooner or later most everything gets sprinkled Read more

  • Picasso Bunyan

    A poet friend goes to the piney north woods only after stopping by the local hardware store where he picks up paint-chip cards. Holding them up to whatever thing of nature he is writing about,he then aspires to be Crayola literate in his effortless verse. Lying in those very same north woods, gazing at a Read more

  • Not my tempo

    I have never danced with the devil. We have, however, chatted amiably around the punchbowl a time or two Read more

  • Distinctions

    “This is a God-forsaken place” she said ruefully, with a sigh “Not forsaken” I said, shaking my head in stubborn disagreement “more misplaced” patting all my pockets in mime,“like God when He can’t find his reading glasses”. Read more