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a journal of literature & art

The Literary Review

Issue 10         Page 87

Benighted Aftermath

It’s strange that after vanquishing a girl   

who flaunted charm, and riding his high horse  

to boast about his conquest – head awhirl –  

he yielded to a lass who lacked recourse  

to fancy trappings that appeal to men. 

She didn’t hesitate to cough or yawn, 

but shrewdly pandered to the passive yen  

guys have to bank upon cerebral brawn  

that complements their more compliant bent.  

Indeed, she might as well have had a sword  

inside the sheath he fain would circumvent  

had she not coveted his own prized hoard  

with more commanding notice of intent.  

As such, astride the high horse that she rode  

with cockiness, he’d tacitly present  

himself as abject spoils of war, bestowed  

upon this captivating cavalier,  

while murmuring sweet nothings in her ear. 

Reversing Course

It seems I got the short end of the stick   

when toying with this girl.  I start to sing  

an ardent song, presuming it would click 

with her who’d cater to my worshipping   

advance. But she commences making eyes   

at me. She might as well play cavalier,   

prepared to clutch an amatory prize. 

I felt my dormant passion start to rear.  

Forget my former quest of keeping her 

enraptured by my captivating tune. 

Her piercingly arresting eyes would stir  

my fancy to an amatory swoon.  

And rather than supposing she’d draw near  

to me, I felt resigned to nibble on her ear.

Old Age Blues

Young men must feel just like they’re millionaires,

in terms of attitude. For they have cash

of spendthrift years to buy into the shares

of love that women hold. It’s not just stash

alone of course. For if the stock is not

available, they might as well be poor

for all it matters. Still they have a shot

at being just a moneyed raconteur.

which older guys are hard put to pretend.

For poverty of means is etched upon

their psyche, though they have the will to spend.

And feigning wealth is not enough to carry on

for long when they’re financially in jail

with scarcely funds enough to put up bail.

Arresting Airs

He dreaded bounty huntresses in pairs,

so was a little bit concerned to see

2 chicks beside him stealing furtive stares 

inside the city’s public library

whose reading room was his local hideout.

Therein, thoughts of incriminating sex

were limited to wards intent to flout

his sensibilities by keeping checks

on him. Indeed, seduced by one dame’s yawn

he was finagled like a fish to bite

her bit, whereon he later on was drawn  

to her who quickly rushed him out of sight.

Conveyed to her interrogation room,

he first would not confess to her, then spilled

the beans she kindled with her strong perfume.

As consequence for having been thus grilled,

his courtship sentenced him to live his life

till death beside this captivating wife.

© Charles Buckland: Little Beaver Dam

Just in Time

I fancied myself riding waves

of surging hospitality 

to my sister’s house for raves.

I’m percolating with esprit

into a Mother’s Day repast

at a restaurant in N J state,

where we usually amassed

for a seasonal tete a tete.

Three minutes late for the Dover

bus, I’d opt instead for the train

due to arrive minutes over

the food being served. “Fate’s disdain

for me,” I thought, admonishing

myself for not acknowledging 

constraints of time. Just then I called

my sis, still harnessed by my plight.

My future prospects all but palled

by transportation’s plebiscite,

till, reeling from the pending loss

of an exculpatory lunch

my host put an ironic gloss

on it that hit me like a punch.

For with an air, demonstrative

as death, she said the Covid test

she’d taken came back positive.

Our luncheon date was put to rest.

For all the effort that I made

at salvaging a victory

from evident defeat, I strayed

into a valedictory.

Though notwithstanding being pissed,

the gods just winked at what I missed.

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