Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

In Memoriam

  • Elegy for Them All

    Twenty-two. Thirty-four, twenty-seven thirty-nine Cancer, leukemia, suicide insidious bastards, each ‘gone too soon’ ‘in a better place’ sycophant salutations of condolence We hardly knew ye Sons, daughters of old friends. A cousin. Classmates of our children. All too vivid reminders “There but for the grace of God…” not at all feeling full of grace single: Read more

  • Fading away

    Small, sporadically mowed rural-church cemetery familial in feel generations grouped eternally spontaneous, asymmetrical layout seems unforced, movingly casual in its nostalgia a rainy, gray day along narrow township gravel road cars parked, haphazardly We buried an old soldier. local VFW could only muster honor guard of three men bent, trembling, purposeful fingers wrinkled khaki, faces, Read more

  • 33 (For Johnny)*

    Twenty-one years was not nearly enough; we had just embarked when you left. Thirty-three years is not nearly enough to erase what is indelibly sketched not a pencil caricature, a dimly recollected photographic snapshot or grainy home movie just you, at nineteen, before illness rudely smudged and dog-eared the picture you are smiling, damn it Read more

  • Fading away

    Small, sporadically mowed rural-church cemetery familial in feel generations grouped eternally spontaneous, asymmetrical layout seems unforced, movingly casual in its nostalgia a rainy, gray day along narrow township gravel road cars parked, haphazardly We buried an old soldier. local VFW could only muster honor guard of three men bent, trembling, purposeful fingers wrinkled khaki, faces, Read more

  • Elegy for Them

    Twenty-two. Thirty-four, twenty-seven thirty-nine Cancer, leukemia, suicide insidious bastards, each ‘gone too soon’ ‘in a better place’ sycophant salutations of condolence We hardly knew ye Sons, daughters of old friends. A cousin. Classmates of our children. All too vivid reminders “There but for the grace of God…” not at all feeling full of grace single: Read more

  • 33 (For Johnny)*

    Twenty-one years was not nearly enough; we had just embarked when you left. Thirty-three years is not nearly enough to erase what is indelibly sketched not a pencil caricature, a dimly recollected photographic snapshot or grainy home movie just you, at nineteen, before illness rudely smudged and dog-eared the picture you are smiling, damn it Read more

  • The trip

    Reading the patina-seasoned bronze postcard at my feet stokes no inner desire of mine to travel Details are scarce; dates, no places. This is premium vacation time, a long time coming traveling solo; no timeshares, no all-inclusive-cruise – hostel or hostile? No clue, just reading the postcard No routine platitudes, clichés; ‘having wonderful time’ ‘wish Read more

  • Requiem for pals

    The roll call is read the dead members of a reunioning high school class twenty-fifth, thirtieth, fortieth… ‘In Memoriam’ reads the blurb on the back page of the program momentary reverence emceed and just for a briefest moment, time truly does stand still classmates remembering those whose eternity came early thinking of them as they were Read more