Ponderable polemics, poetic

WordPress site of poet Mark Lucker

relationships

  • After some ongoing, sad-eyed cajoling you agreed to a Friday night date night not of your choosing or comprehension posing for nervous artist and sketch pad you acquiesced to your best black pumps, resolute: no clenching of rose in teeth – concession gladly made by your love-struck middle-aged, middle-class, modicum talent Renoir with shaky charcoal Read more

  • Mental matinee

    Less frequently but with far more purpose, much sharper focus than my younger, more myopic days my workday mind meanders from the daily mundane to stray to tantalizing, sometimes R-rated thoughts, possibilities for later cerebral erotica starring my oh-so- vixenish-after-twenty-years wife My mind’s eye squints to concentrate on the unfolding cinematic epic in my head when Read more

  • shorthand

    text wife: ‘Dory?’ It cannot also be ‘hunky’ as I am elsewhere Read more

  • dusty hallmarks

    on a high shelf, back of my closet a box filled with greeting cards anticipating events that will be potential celebratory moments categorized for their joyousness or seriousness depending on the occasion and personality involved waiting for the perfect time, the perfect card for the right person at the back of the box those lesser Read more

  • Semantics

    I said goodbye to my share of women. Some I loved some of whom loved me. once in a while it was mutual. some of them I left with regrets, sometimes I took them with me because they seemed portable . I have left things unsaid desires unmet plans incomplete; left with my head held Read more

  • Qualms? (love is… #47)

    Love is a compunction albeit an unctuous one it is an albatross, a cross to makes you feel bare Love makes for weird poetry, messy emotions hackneyed devotions far exceeding alliterative quotas for exasperation Read more

  • Salonica, goneica

    She loves me, she loves me not Played that game as a kid, for fun with and without the flower, played it frequently later, for keeps Won once or twice I have over picked my life’s quota of prophetic daisies, come out on either side of the nursery rhyme sometimes the right verse, wrong time Read more

  • Heat you don’t want to beat

    Summer is when you most think of her, want her hot, sultry, at times stifling melting into yourself, sweat trickles into places that spark imagination, irritate, perturb undeniably sensual, cursable, so memorably bemusing she will return, as always, the bittersweet equinox of her 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

  • 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