fuckin’ lucky

lucky 1

lad struts with gallant chest
thrust, just that pluckin’

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

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 curiously
endearingly awkward
confidingly open

idealistically broken
unsettleingly sincere
consciously woken
unflinchingly spoken

naive to complexities
of each others’ unfurling

righteously reciprocal
tragically self-critical

impelled by bottomless
well of instinct’s cocky

the frenzied enigma
of first touch

©Anthony Gorman 2018

images: pixabay


a grumpy gift: Best Man-Lois Linkens

Sudden Denouement Literary Collective


Pink tie

A long satin tongue.

Soft black hair,

Nutbrown shoes

And brown skin.

August sun

Is glitter

In the beer,

Like flies across a golden lake,

Bugs in amber.

The bouquet

Fell flat,

A red yellow green corpse

Of us,

And then there was nothing

But your eyes

And my crooked feet

And Bowie

Floats on coloured lights

And all I feel is you.

Lois is a poet and student from England. She is studying the literature of the Romantics and hopes their values and innovations will filter through into her own work. She is working on longer projects at present, with a hope to publish poetry collections and novels in the years to come. She is a feminist, an nostalgic optimist, and a quiet voice in the shadows of Joanne Baillie and Charlotte Smith. It is a pleasure to present her work, and you can find more of it…

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