Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

Relationships

  • Campground Neighbors (Campfire Poem #72)

    Couple next door way older than sixtyish me compact camper in place when we arrived a man, a woman silver hair matching dog say hello when they return late evening Early risers, both come morning they let dog out back in we nod ‘hello’ As I enjoy my morning campfire coffee I am reminded how… Read more

  • 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 father I carry with me, mirth more tangible than profundity less open to interpretation than… Read more

  • 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!… Read more

  • 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 father I carry with me, mirth more tangible than profundity less open to interpretation than… 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

  • 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 Read more

  • No fish story (for Amy)

    I am not carping 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 flounderer I am no fish out of water here nor do I have any other fish… Read more

  • Valentine’s Day, approacheth

    Adrift 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… Read more

  • Newlyweds ago

    Loft 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   Read more

  • Pic-ah-nic bas-ket! (Love is… #161)

    Love is fried chicken you’re never certain – follow the rules of etiquette… …or just dive in, use your fingers savory satisfying finger-lickin’ chew-on-bone yummy, messy heart-healthy artery clogging oh-so-tasty Love is fried chicken but when all is said and done just what do you do with the gnawed on bones? – Mark Lucker Read more