Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

  • Inevitablities

    Calendar, clock, seasons youth, maturation, death functional, pre-meditated change for the sake of change Desire, plans, politics she loves me not, she loves me? Change on the fly, on a whim, on a wing-and-a-prayer. On the lam. Change happens to you regardless ignoring change is not desiring the status quo, just denial dressed up for… Read more

  • Passion

    He noticed her intensity sitting there, reading Trying to capture some of her bookish vehemence he prodded hopefully “Ahh. The plot thickens.” “Like old Hollandaise” she replied, without looking up He turned on the television, swearing off books 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

  • 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 of… Read more

  • Distinctions

    “This is a God-forsaken place” she said ruefully, with a sigh “Not forsaken” I said, shaking my head in stubborn disagreement “more misplaced” patting all my pockets in mime,“like God when He can’t find his reading glasses”. Read more

  • Morning coffee

    Saturday. Early, but not too. I bring her a cup of coffee the rich stuff, good stuff our special Saturday blend. She stirs gently, like the brew I set the mug on her nightstand Pheromones blend with aromatic Arabica Saturday morning alchemy dissolves into Saturday afternoon Read more

  • Sweetness

    Memories of you scamper through my psyche like ants over the sugar cubes in grandma’s summer sugar bowl Read more

  • Dawning for a poet

    Scratchy, scraping, raw pencil on paper causes her to stir she turns sleepily my way half smiles, half sneers rolls back the other way she thinks I am writing a paean to some ancient love or other stray reminisce, hopes its not some sappy ode to her Sometimes it is. Other times I am writing… Read more

  • Not your typical first-car poem

    It wasn’t a muscle car, never garnered a ‘cool’ never showed up in a Beach Boys song (though we sure got around) friends thought me an automotive fool At 19, I bought a ’69 Plymouth Fury    station wagon, brand new to some unknown nuclear-family when I was only 10. No family to haul on vacation,… Read more

  • Campfire poem # 54

    The embers of the campfire glow, fade with the vagaries of the waning lake breeze brilliant orange, gray, orange, silver, orange reminding me of 1969; flashing, broken neon small, single level roadside motels on old black-and-white signed U.S. highways frequented by people like those in my parents blue Plymouth Fury; mom and dad up front,… Read more