LEGS (a true story)


I dreamt once my legs would not budge
From what my doctors could not judge

Then one day that dream came true
And I knew not what to do

And everyone thought it a sin
That I had become a virtual shut-in

And all the while in this recession
Only served to fuel my depression

But now that all is said and done
It seems all my battles never won

To serve as just deserts to me
Legs once active, but now hypocrisy

That I have come oh so far
To wind up alone, in a bar

Without friends, or even a mate
Oh who deserves such a fate?

Yet, am I too young to die?
Now too frustrated to even try

To try and regain a life seemed lost,
Such a life of struggle- is it worth the cost?

                                             –Thomas F. Gorman



Image courtesy pixabay.com

The shifting, changing, sands of time
They grazed my face, and erased my mind

As I had no mind left to lose,
Since I tried to kill it with booze

And though the clock still keeps ticking,
I can’t remember the last thought I was thinking

When everything was looking better,
I waited for improvement, which happened never

Now I just sit and wait to die,
Yet I cannot remember the reason why

That I ended up here, and all alone–
No place to be, and no where to call home.

— Copyright Thomas Gorman 2017

Glorious Food

Photo courtesy pixabay.com

In a hurry,
Has delighted my tongue
From way back, since I was young

Without fail
Can make you happy
If only cooked til snappy

And Beans,
And Collard Greens
Are not just for those without means

Maybe they’re just in my genes

But chicken and pork
Won’t make me a dork
Or leave me bereft
Of being a chef

Or those cheeses that pleases
Enable telekinesis–
It should only make the eater
Desire something sweeter

And berries,
Like fairies
Garnish ice cream
Make it so divine

With so many delicious dishes,
May you enjoy great food
all the time!



If turkeys had rights,
Would we let them fly kites,
And maybe grant them a pardon?

For at this time of year,
There’s nothing so dear–
To a turkey, but that is the bargain

But stuffing would miss
The good company, and for this
We might not have quite the jargon

Because I’ve resigned myself
To get off the shelf
The cranberry sauce, still waiting

There’s nothing so fine
As to have with some wine
Yet my appetite is not so abating

My family’d protest–
‘You’re feeding us less!’
And so I can’t disappoint them

Be hungry my friends,
When a turkey meets its end
And our smiles are not any less then.
–THOMAS GORMAN (C) Copyright 2014


I typically don’t write about things I am going through that are pain related, but this poem spoke to me of some of my own experiences. I thought it powerful enough that I wanted to share this work of a fellow blogger. I hate measuring how a day goes by how difficult it is to put on my shoes and socks in the morning, but I must keep trying to find a solution.

Poesy plus Polemics

prison_window_abstract_cell_pattern_architectural_painting “Prison Window” by Kazuya Akimoto
pain is prison

a solitaire cell

pharmaceutical keys

don’t fit all its locks

a life sentence

imposed I suppose

by bad choices

genetics and one

distrait surgeon

I’d strangle if only

he’d left me a

semblance of strength

so I sit never stand

in this punishing place

in my bio-austerity

missing the mercy of sleep

finding solace in

laying down words

by the light of a

fortunate window

through which

I observe the old age

that might have been mine

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The blank page beckons thee
And what it is next to write
To occupy this deserted paper,
And not have it end up a blight, 

For the world is filled with meaningless verse
In search of an appreciative audience,
So much so, you fulfill this curse,
Yet try to offer some solace 

Of what it means to go to the well
Only to find that it is dry
Why wring your hands over ‘Writer’s Block?’
Indeed, why even cry? 

For one day it will rain again,
And so refill your ponds
Return later and take your fill,
Drink all, before it is gone.
                                                               –THOMAS GORMAN (C) Copyright 2016



photo credit: dronepicr

Drone photography is very nice
For what it’s actually worth,
And 3D Printing is all the rage,
A technology forming its birth

But some bridge must yet be made,
Or else all we’ll have to show
Is lowering of our R&D,
And all that much less we know

Some countries far away
Will steal our future thunder,
As we put aside all the aspirations of
Our expectations with economic wonders

But thanks to Bill Clinton,
The cat is out of the bag,
For thanks to that we owe Bill
The contempt for our absence of Swag.