Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

fathers and sons

  • Poems my father left me

    There is reason, even some rhyme in the stanza, the beat the reading in time of who, what, why he was what he did and why he didn’t why he maybe should’ve not stressing on could’ve Sometimes His groove was far more scat than stanza he could always carry a jaunty life tune singing it… Read more

  • Poems my father left me

    There is reason, even some rhyme in the stanza, the beat the reading in time of who, what, why he was what he did and why he didn’t why he maybe should’ve not stressing on could’ve Sometimes His groove was far more scat than stanza he could always carry a jaunty life tune singing it… Read more

  • Afternoon at Lakewood

    Whatever remains lie beneath six, eight, feet; compacted dirt atop concrete lid, polished walnut box thirty years I have come to this spot far longer to this place to the eye, comfortably little is changed thirty years say everything has yes and no he would be one-hundred now hard to imagine him at a full… Read more

  • Changing of the Guardians

    Changing diapers we once foolishly hoped were a passing fad too soon wistfully outgrew all-star wrestling bouts on sopping pads consoled ourselves with years of wiping runny noses becoming laser-precise, discreetly or not plucking odd clumps from noses, Cheerios from ears via pointer-finger-and-thumb industrial tweezers overcame defiance deftly utilizing Kleenex-and-spittum wash cloths to rub off… Read more

  • Manly

    At eight-years old machismo has a very different feel ‘Don’t cry like a baby,’ my son would admonish his second-grade peers ‘…cry like a man!’ As he is now sixteen I wonder…would he challenge them at all? Read more

  • Guardian pal

    Like a shadow you know is there but disappears when you turn to confront it it’s there, but he’s not Following discreetly, benignly nourish part of the atmosphere minus the trench coat Sometimes light diffuses instead of illuminates My father’s memory, legacy, aura follows me no, I am not paranoid just aware of the oddly… Read more

  • Complexities

    He lived his life with infectious, mirth- skewed hubris, flavored with a certain spiritual panache that inspired envy far more than disdain, admiration over ridicule and he never took any of it for granted. Women and men found him equally engaging he counted among his friends many who were far older, considerably younger than he.… Read more