Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

poem

  • 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

  • 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

  • Recalculating

    another turning point crossroads of cliché and same ole what to do which way to turn got here without GPS will navigate as always, following stars gut instinct not infallible co-pilot riding shotgun, no desire to shoot let alone take aim even with windows down, wind in my hair freedom promised by open roads just Read more

  • Valentine’s Day, approacheth

    Adrift Over a beer, I blithely told a friend bemoaning a lost love there were plenty of “other fish in the sea” unmoved, he was, as I noted “there are also tires, discarded refrigerators and sunken oil tankers” Thus inspired he raised his glass, made a toast; “Let’s hear it” said he “for the girls 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

  • Wood-post modernist

    thrills are to be had secrets need revealing wonders beg unraveling truths urge to be told revelations dark and light constrained in the pristine symmetry of new, freshly sharpened shiny-yellow pencil just above the perfectly honed greyish tip peach-fuzz wisps of wood cling gently, smell of pine tickle fingers excitedly anticipation cylindrically contained wisdom waits Read more

  • Rider less

    What goes around comes around life more Tilt-A-Whirl than Merry-go-Round Symmetry, overrated repetition needs expected spontaneity no matter how it goes down up…? Nobody waits in line just anticipating the thrill of getting strapped in and staying grounded save the poetically unenlightened dreamer on the rumbling quarter-a-ride, in-front-of-the grocery-store horse – Mark Lucker Read more

  • Flying east at dusk

    The setting sun chases us eastward orange-scorched ripples of cumulus white race with us neck-and-neck ablaze, dying wisps of cotton embers envelop us while about to be snuffed out by rapidly encroaching nightfall fleeting light from behind speeds toward a head-on collision with onrushing darkness a mesmerizing train wreck at thirty-thousand feet I cannot turn Read more

  • Lamenting angst

    If one can grieve what never was if unfulfilled wistfulness is worthy of sorrow If could’ve should’ve maybe regretfulness can be mourned I will go to the wake pay my respects sing praises lifting an anthem of toasts to the dearly departed Then I’ll tip my hat leave my money on the bar and the 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