Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

Uncategorized

  • In step

    Time, so they say, always marches on its cadence, precise as any honor guard Mostly. Time is sometimes less a rhythm, more a tuning of a ukulele MY dog DOG has HAS fleas. fleas. My dog has fleas Time sometimes stumbles, but always finishes the parade Read more

  • Ponder on this, but don’t linger (Love is… #81)

    Love when done very well is a curious form of masochistic self-expression, self-inflicted manic depression, a hormonally-glitched, pseudo-exasperation But When not done all that well love is plainly, simply boring as hell Read more

  • Mine

    Beatles songs, baseball cards the aroma of a fresh-mowed lawn, pungent sweetness of burning leaves lake-bottom mud spurting through summer toes Gelatinous frogs. Hot beach sand cool July evenings and the first non-parental hand ever held A specific summer. Tactile youth. You. Read more

  • Secured

    We kept colorful marbles in old Mason Jars, pilfered with Grandma’s blessing rabbit’s feet and other youthful treasures smelled like Grandpa’s Dutch Masters under that cool flip-top lid Our baseball cards were safe beneath our beds, in rubber- band locked P.F. Flyer boxes our glass and cardboard personal Fort Knoxes Read more

  • Algebraic youth

    The ratio of hearts broken to girls loved lacked only the coefficient of understanding statistics quantify the what fail to enumerate the costs, causes and effects showing the work only proves what I have long known; I suck at math. 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

  • Gratitude

    Thanking God for prayers unanswered should be a regular pilgrimage daily thanks sent heavenward as well for pleadings ignored, deals never made, proposals not acknowledged, pleas not granted, abstract make-a-wishful thinking, and rejection from past potential dates second guessing goes against my better adult judgment, yet fits my quirky analytical ways so thankfulness is sometimes… Read more

  • Meditative bombast

    What I have inflicted on life and its responsorials and reprisals on me have proven that regrets teach – if you do the homework things, events once inexplicable are simply lessons learned in an evolving matriculation; tuition deferred, knowledge incurred, debits carried forward, erased Unlike my youthful self I am far less Dylanesque, unless positively… Read more

  • Advancement

    I eschew sex. Firmly entrenched in middle age I have found the act wanting, boring the physicality dull, unimaginative old hat Sex has lost its interest in me shunning sex, I have discovered making love It is the side effect of experience the residue of having love, lost, found I am the artist who has… Read more

  • To the east

    Fresh sun drips from above low-hanging fruit; a new day awaits harvest from the sagging branch of an ancient black walnut yawning, stretching its limbs crackling, groaning arthritic objection in the breeze sitting in the shelter of dawn, I mimic the tree in awakening agreement Read more