Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

love poetry

  • Love is a day at the fair flashing neon, loud music, exotic sights, smells, sounds, enticements, leering inducements of all sorts adrenaline-pumping sensory overload You know you shouldn’t overindulge 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!… Read more

  • Jarring (Love is… # 71)

    Poets have often likened love to roses summer days pastoral scenes other sundry phenomena saccharine sells in toto love is not candy roses sweet imagery clichés violin soundtracks I, having lived love see more esoteric practicality from, for the heart love is tartar sauce. It looks like hell you have no idea what is really… 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

  • Love at the middle ages

    Being your knight in shining armor often means more work for you pounding out dents knocking off rust slapping in Bondo minimizing creaks knowing just when, where to squirt WD40 There is nobility in your exasperation at my Quixotic nature acceptance of my clunky, clanky chivalry; romantic caprices challenge your practicality whimsically, we joust word… Read more

  • One metmorphisize fits all

    Happily-ever-after mythology prefaces every sequel continuing character-driven sagas story arc only tacking an index onto volume one, three, sixteen in a set having read this scene repeatedly life movies annotated script writing, rewriting books they were based on playing déjà vu-all-over-again never more than countless times here-we-go-again monotony of changing times changing directors same cast… Read more

  • No fish story (for Amy)

    I am not carping here from poet’s perch; people often find my reel, romantic tale fishy Love is like shooting fish in a barrel – this I have known for long I have been one with the proverbial oaken-casked flounderer I am no fish out of water here nor do I have any other fish… Read more

  • Vestiges

    As kids, we tied our fates to various inanimate yet participatory objects spun bottles Ouija boards dandelions professed proof of true loves brought cryptic messages all interpreted with certainty until the imagined magic wore off leaving us with our first taste of skepticism but the bottle could be redeemed for the deposit, the eye to… Read more

  • Love is fried chicken you’re never certain – follow the rules of etiquette… …or just dive in, use your fingers savory satisfying finger-lickin’ chew-on-bone yummy, messy heart-healthy artery clogging oh-so-tasty Love is fried chicken but when all is said and done just what do you do with the gnawed on bones? – Mark Lucker Read more

  • Advancement

    I eschew sex. Firmly entrenched now in middle age I have found the act wanting, boring the physicality dull, unimaginative old hat Sex has lost its interest in me shunning sex, I have discovered making love It is the side effect of experience the residue of having love, lost, found I am the artist who… Read more

  • Pictures

    We were a long time ago years? decades? lifetimes? carbon dating? time is filled in a long forgotten coloring book half the pictures never finished bold, black-line outlines dated, quaint stumbled across by accident you flip through remembering all the scenes beach, park, ball, puppy love ? first few pages carefully colored giving way to… Read more