Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

growing older

  • Recycle

    “Love is like tartar sauce; it looks like hell, you have no idea what’ in it, but you always seem to find it tasty”. – Me, circa 1990 Witticisms, coined phrases of my younger years linger around me trailing like stray dogs following me home from the butcher shop ‘scat! go away! don’t follow me’! Read more

  • Resolute residues

    Sometimes I ponder my legacy picturesque footprints in beach sand casually, photogenically left behind, impulsively signed with flotsam stick left to the whim of waves, rising tides? Existence as an Etch-A-Sketch frozen in time via cataclysmic event fossilization rendering me ancient to a distant archeological future? I cannot say Hearts, initials clandestinely written whimsically defacing Read more

  • Christmas, remembered

    There remains, for me, a magic to Christmas Eve a carryover from youth, augmented with the new memories being created, added to the repertoire Thou the idyllic Mel Torme and Norman Rockwell versions of iconic song and picture were only loving adornments to the Christmas Eves I remember their annual, wistful reappearances are welcome The Read more

  • Q-and-A

    I am aging gracefully as is my faith like the gray replacing the brown in my beard pesky questions have been quietly replaced not with answers but the earned ease that comes with the confidence of blithely ignored uncertainty, There is grace in abandoned worry, freedom in letting go the folly of life mastery comfort with Read more

  • Playing on

    Faded are July’s warmth, summer’s cheers. Supplanted now by the encroaching hints of cooler days, forgotten expectations, procrastinated chores shelved, he can only now muse without dwelling on what won’t be. Could-have-beens and maybes aren’t statistically meaningful; they never really were, except to others in relation to their expectations and dreams for him. Regret is Read more

  • Distance

    The expanse is self-inflicted a self-exiled expatriate; I am here, not there answered a calling, have since done my best at least pretty well considering restraints with which I had to work sometimes I feel my work here done my time here over needed elsewhere, so I try to believe but the work here is Read more

  • Freshness

    cardboard Tupperware crowds my attic keeping my soul preserved if not fresh rows, stacks of oddly square bowls repositories of then; lost loves, past successes other leftovers sometimes leftovers trump a fresh lunch filling rejuvenation found amidst the smell musty brown wood pulp – Mark Lucker Read more

  • In (and out) of the loop

    local coffee place sipping my solitary cup checking email next table over a group of men older than I, age gap not of grandfather-grandson severity the six zealously swap tales of doctor visits with enthusiasm once reserved for one-night stands summer romances familiar names swirl through their regaling conversation; Alzheimer’s, Chron’s, Cirrhosis taking the places Read more

  • Taking a concession stand

    I hate it when somebody states they are ‘making concessions’ to middle age I find mid-life to be a wonderful carnival the only concessions those to be purchased to quench a thirst sate a hunger I stroll the middle age midway impervious to the shill’s siren-call of con-men barkers offering relief enhancement and release me, Read more

  • Making note

    A cheap flash drive containing one document; PDF file of a note – my message of hopeful wonder, Robinson Crusoe-like whim I seal the technological romanticism tightly in a Mason Jar, throw it into the ocean at night as the tide predictably recedes Sitting on the beach I ponder as only a man with youthful Read more