fuckin’ lucky

lucky 1

lad struts with gallant chest
thrust, just that pluckin’
lucky

his held, hoping true hand
humbled in yours

but games you gambled,
proved not happy

with grace of matured pride,
he proffered three
leaf clover,

plainly, you
preferred
four

his fateful foible,
or yours?

©Anthony Gorman 2018

images: pixabay

 

bless-id verge-ins

I was thinking about virginity in a non sex context.. but almost as an approach to life.. an untainted of thinking. a rebirth of sorts.. and this is the poem that hatched.blessed verge ins 1

clasped curious
endearing awkward
confiding gate opened

idealistic broken
unsettled and sincere
conscious woken
unflinching spoken

naive to complexities
of each others’ unfurling
needs

righteous reciprocal
tragic self-critical

impelled bottomless
well impulses

enigmas’ fuzzy
peach touches.

©Anthony Gorman 2018

images: pixabay

snap- shot

snapshot 1

exhilaration fades
into prints of
blue

snapshot ghosts
of me and
you

tears of years,
bleeding
sepia

into barren
souls,

captured lonely
and still,

robbed of promise’s
spirited thrills

©Anthony Gorman 2018

images: pixabay