Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

growing up

  • No French Cuffs

    Plaid flannel shirts of my Northwoods youth smelled of beer and pine cones boat motor gasoline and fresh caught sunfish wood smoke and filtered Winstons when I was a kid the intertwined, pungent aromas of cervelat salami plumbers’ grease, house paint mingled freely, locked in square-patterned fibers, always-rolled-up sleeves no amount of Fels-Naptha soap could Read more

  • Breezes

    summer comes to a close autumnal breezes waft rustling memories of those days when the close of summer had more definitive endings sun-drenched days of youthful frolic, innocent play, done swimming, playing with frogs in holes dug on sandy beaches at grandparent’s homes; ‘the lake’ summer Xanadus of childhood one year, scenic backdrops for advancing Read more

  • You.

    Yes, you of posted pictorials dystopian bon mots your naiveté trumps your angst ironically you are playing solitaire – Mark L. Lucker © 2016 http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd Read more

  • First dance

    A ma-and-pa resort, small lake north woods of Minnesota small office behind quaint bar, twelve small cabins dozen aluminum rowboats to use; minnows, worms, leeches for sale amenities, ala Angler’s Edge Joe & Gloria’s place The bar a hangout for township locals grandpa Ivar and I frequented the nicked, cigarette-burn speckled polished, yellow-varnished bar for 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

  • 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

  • Art of Flying

    Flights of fancy via wings of balsa when an extra nickel added a propeller we took wing on wind-looping imagination gliding sometimes to gentle landings more often crashing with aplomb-tinged disappointment when repairs were beyond the pale Images silently soaring, frozen in in time and flight still life, real life in balsa and backyard – 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

  • Redux

    Shoes; a pair fit in my hand Shoes sometimes bronzed for museum-reverence, dusty display on living room mantle Unfathomable they once thundered across hardwood floors in a symphonic cacophony of thumping, giggles, pure joy. Little shoes; toy-like. Worn soles, tattered seams, frayed laces a dingy gray Just a pair of shoes. Hers. Two little shoes 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