on magic’s crest
of sacred, milk
dripped night
girl netted sky’s
every dropping
sunshine star
in crushed clown,
velvet gown
dismissing all
firefly cries
as they swirled
sick, sucked into
sour pits
of eyes
air went dark,
but girl beamed
brilliant
realms beyond
receded
decays of dreams,
clustered in timid
clouds,
done, devil
proud.
© Anthony Gorman 2018
in part pixelated pane
it’s just phantom
half i see
other, queer charm
butcher, me
with shame’s shank
pressed to flat of
blistered back
more itchy than
relaxed
glacial fresh
sensation
that,
don’t dare breathe,
don’t react-
attacked
fever sun scratch
moon is coming
soon
on prick of sudden
red crush gushing
© Anthony Gorman 2018
image: https://pixabay.com/en/users/geralt-9301/
you spend the day in suspension hanging upside down in dark cave high frequency white noise keeping you breathing freely your thoughts increasingly lucid bandages wrap your beating heart covering unresolved feelings wounded by your own compassion for someone in your distant past when it’s time to let yourself go breaking free from the ceiling […]
I m writing a poem Filled with present and the past Today they mixed into A memory i wish will vanish fast This will be a bad song I can tell you right away It is about a boy i loved many years ago Memory corrupted by lust and cliché We sat together in school […]
(Indulge in a wistful sigh…)
Sometimes it comes Without notice Without warning With a flash A bolt across Azure skies Arcing From the great expanse To the great below At times There is devastation left in its wake Blackened trees And split earth The smell of burnt air Long after the sudden storm And sometimes still It leaves no trace […]
via A Bolt Across Azure Skies — Objects, and the Distance Between Them
…not until i discovered the sparkle of true diamond, did I realize I had been mining coal.
© Anthony Gorman 2018
This poem is about my daughter, who was born as the surviving twin at 25 weeks , weighing just 1lb 3 oz. She was in the NICU of the Ottawa General Hospital for four months following her birth. It was 2 weeks before I was allowed to hold her. I watched her resuscitated twice from cardiac arrest. She had bleeding on her brain and hole in her heart. The blood on her brain, miraculously reabsorbed and her heart was mended through surgery at a year and a half of age. She is now 8 years old, solid and healthy…. I don’t often provide context for my poetry, but in this case, I felt it necessary.
she, brutality’s wonder dawn-
emerging bird-sized and bruised
in cesious hues-
sulking pond waters, baby still,
still, wisps of warrior breath
breach pin holes in dewy, crystal head
lightning’s spark, spikes
new life blood
universe’s latent mercy, surges
bold through veined contains
of garnet flood
© Anthony Gorman 2018
a cold room and
you,
this duo’s song, does
not sing true
for you bring fuzzy slipper
heat with each
joy-filled donut beat
© Anthony Gorman 2018
a beaming bulb of vulnerability is in the offering of your blossom beauty to the thankless, smug and ugly.
© Anthony Gorman 2018
