Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

ponderable

  • 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

  • Sips

    I am a wine cellar unto myself occasionally decanted aged-to-perfection vintage at times acting the vinegar sweet, pungent varietal undertones serious melancholy drunk to forget remembering quite dry an acquired taste not for all people label me state certainly what I best accompany pairing me with prescribed ideals things I would never associate knowing me 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

  • 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

  • From Here to Less Certainty

    A day at the beach we have been here before; I am trying to be Burt Lancaster as you hesitate to play Deborah Kerr with self-conscious protestations I have heard many times But today the kids are not with us, the friends who we accompany sit engrossed in their sun-worshipping, paperbacks, inflatable-floating oblivious to us Read more

  • Muse bemuse

    She has been a muse nothing more and everything less since we met as teens inspiration still flows from a fleeting reminder; hearing her name (commonly used by others out of parental laziness) the searing stubbed-toe pain of an emotional owie only she could’ve kissed and made better longing springs from trying to remember just Read more

  • Not a deep sleep

    I used to have a dream where I had won first prize in a church raffle: lunch with God where, over, thin-crust pizza, I could ask him three questions. I always lead with an inquiry about why he made humans “The hyenas” sayeth God, as the waitress pours more wine, “said I didn’t a sense Read more

  • Cross training

    Some think we’re simply running away not believing that what we are running to is something, someplace that needs us just as much as we need it Just the act of running moves you away from something, towards something else life is running; not living is sitting still We are running away; running away from Read more

  • But is it art?

    Large, bold strokes spray painted symbols, words innocent and sinister hieroglyphs and slogans in black and blue on pulsating, animated canvas Names, times, events, places feelings and forgotten emotions weathered, all Some are ancient, indecipherable some still hurt some never did some are funny a few not at all Many names are legible, a.k.a’s various Read more

  • Esoterically

    “Et tu, Brute?” exudes more raw panache than “Eebbeda, eebbeda, eebeda – that’s all, folks!” Abject profundity, treasured ironic historical declarations notwithstanding, as a poet and teacher of English language arts and crafts I am more keenly aware than most; when departing premises, punctuation trumps all. Read more