Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

Uncategorized

  • Rosetta stoned

    You are Gaelic beautiful, mystical, lyrical, recognizable, incomprehensible, not easily translated Yet I love to listen to your rhythms with heart, soul, eyes you are a romance language I can always listen to, try to read, knowing no matter how much I read and hear, I could never be truly fluent in you Read more

  • Heat you don’t want to beat

    Summer is when you most think of her, want her hot, sultry, at times stifling melting into yourself, sweat trickles into places that spark imagination, irritate, perturb undeniably sensual, cursable, so memorably bemusing she will return, as always, the bittersweet equinox of her Read more

  • Era or epoch

    You can use a sundial as easily as a Rolex an egg timer will perform like a Timex count the days with an abacus or hourglass leather-bound planner or electronic gizmos all that matters is the sun rises, the sun sets and you are spending your lifetime with me Read more

  • Spiritual hedonism

    I look into a mirror and I see myself I look into myself and I see a mirror a me that reflects all that I have done everything that has happened in life making me the person I have become Mostly, I like what I see The reflection mostly makes me smile sometimes I even… Read more

  • Proclamation

    Imperfection should lead to introspection, but as a hobby not your vocation it is no small concession to make the confession that I have long since (with light apprehension) blithely lived my life minus much regard for convention Read more

  • At midnight

    Laying in the darkness midnight rain sounds like frying bacon splattering conjuring up the aroma of a time in my life when I took such pristine moments for granted 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

  • Clear Cut

    Memories are tree stumps What was, isn’t anymore what was alive, now is dead though it harbors new life; pain, bitterness, wistfulness, love, remembrance, regret thrive like so much lichen On occasion a new shoot sprouts from the stump, drawing its nourishment, its potential new life, from the decayed remains of what had once been… Read more

  • Midway? All the way? (Love is… #39)

    Love is like a day at the county fair 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… Read more