Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress poetry site of poet Mark Lucker

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  • 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

  • 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