Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

love

  • Era or epoch

    You can use a sundial as easily as a Rolex an egg timer will perform like a Timex count the days with an abacus or hourglass leather-bound planner or electronic gizmos all that matters is the sun rises, the sun sets and you are spending your lifetime with me Read more

  • Love is like a day at the county fair flashing neon, loud music, exotic sights, smells, sounds, enticements sensory overload You know you shouldn’t over indulge 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! Faster! Faster! Spinning Read more

  • Love when done very well is a curious form of masochistic self-expression, self-inflicted manic depression, a hormonally-glitched, pseudo-exasperation But When not done all that well love is plainly, simply boring as hell Read more

  • Love is… (#17)

    Love is an oscillating lawn sprinkler you may have to periodically adjust your positioning maybe adjust the pressure just a bit yet sooner or later most everything gets sprinkled Read more

  • Advancement

    I eschew sex. Firmly entrenched 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 has Read more

  • Jaywalker

    She crosses my mind from time to time in a downtown crosswalk, distracted, late-for-a-lunch-date manner sometimes she is more casual, unaware, letting the dog out, grabbing the Sunday paper off the sidewalk before brunch She crosses my mind from time to time weaving through downtown like a drunken sailor in 3 inch pumps with a 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

  • 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

  • Calling my wife at work

    Can I take you to lunch? Can I take you upstairs? I have only an hour to go where I desire to be taken; taking time for longings, for lunch taking time is tempting as you tempt me, letting me be taken to lunch or taken elsewhere always hungry because I am always taken with Read more

  • Campfire poem #71

    Campfire smoke makes a fine aphrodisiac but it lulls my wife to sleep making embers an ambiguous metaphor Read more