Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Fantasy’ Category

Tee Tyson does a fantastic job reading my poetry. And, at the very end she does a surprise reading of one her teenage poems that I think is incredible. She doesn’t really know the strength of her talent. Her poem is striking and her reading of both hers and mine is majestic and done far better than I could have done. Thanks Tee!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nd-qQIBNetU&feature=share

Enjoy.

Gordon.

Read Full Post »

CLOWNS

CLOWNS

4/11/2011

Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn

Poet in the Rain

 

The field in which the lovers quiet lay;

they, quite naked, on that gentle summer’s day.

Naked, but did not seem so to each the other,

flesh to flesh pressed were they,

wrapped in each the other’s arms.

Bewitched were they each by the other’s charms.

 

Surrounded, they, then the enchanted couple did stay,

by a tender, yielding earth’s blanket lay

of soft, dew-kissed, bright-green clover.

There, out of sight, in secret, hidden from the world,

their lives, their futures at once uncurled, were tenderly unfurled;

as they turned their trust in love to each other over.

 

Searching fingertips roamed in quest of communion with their lover,

and, as they did, reached out and touched waiting fingertips in soft discover.

A bond did form, that day, atop the yielding, sweet-soft lay of clover.

Fevered, hungered, searching lips did seek out and find the other.

She being a gentle, farmer’s virgin-daughter, and he a homeless, lonely rover.

They found a love no one could ever harm upon the sleeping clover.

 

Entranced from that day forever more they were.

Seduced by each the other’s charms.

While butterflies and humming birds the air about them did gently fan and      stir.

A relaxing of herself did occur. The broken barrier the waiting shaft exposed.

The tower entered by strong sense of permanence yearning superimposed.

They entered a place, few ever reach, a union strong, too much in love to be     ill composed.

 

He gently wiped the beaded moisture and clinging hair from her smiling face,

then with trembling fingers, her beauty before him did slowly trace.

Amazed at the wonder he saw there in her sparkling eyes,

far bluer than he had ever seen in any lake or ever in the skies.

Therein he saw a future ne’er dreamt could ever hold for him,

and to her pledged his love eternally from that moment forever then.

 

As he lifted her to lightly kiss, he told her his love was twice that of being true.

He vouchsafed himself forevermore to her that warm, hushed, and gentle day,

and the lovers, pressed close again each against the other,

fell asleep hiding in the lay of soft, sweet-summer clover,

caressed by a gentle breeze, while watched over,

guarded by ten thousand clowns set by the breeze to waving.

 

Each clown of summer wore a different colored hat.

A different colored hat upon each stem had Nature formed and sat.

Red, blue, pink, yellow, then, and some a blend, above each clown did stay,

As though Nature, in love with color and with shape, had placed upon each

of them special, dainty, glorious crowns that summer’s day.

Their voices soft but laughter came as in the light wind they did tilt and sway.

 

Twinkling jewels of dew touched more than just a few,

and sparkled as diamonds would when touched, when kissed by the sun,

and the lovers came to know gently each the other that waking day;

for wrapped in a summer’s heat for the first time as they naked lay,

wrapped in the heat of a growing lust for each the other then knew,

wrapped in a soft love that spiked and pierced the soul.

 

And a gallant beauty of a farmer’s daughter that day was set to foal,

from the rapt love, the two lovers that day did share.

Then, as they lay in the hotness of summer, amid the power of a torrid lust;

each pledged the other their lives would from that day forward forever share,

for each the other had grown amid a mounting trust,

a love of which came first and did forever last from that day most fair.

 

And other the years from their love five children lept,

while, always, each lover near the other, the pair was at all times close kept.

Until years had passed, and they were both grown old and gray.

The farmer’s gentle, virgin-daughter and the once, lonely rover,

who, together, had lain one summer’s hazy day surrounded by the soft and      yielding clover

while watched over, they were, by ten thousand waving, laughing clowns.

 

Waving summer clowns, and each had, from the others, all worn different         colored crowns.

The lovers were one day by grown children found; their arms entwined in death        fast asleep.

In gentle passing their pledges to never leave, the other did each keep.

And visited they this place together one final time to lay

side by side, together at rest beneath the earth on that final day

And the clowns of summer danced while their children stood to pray

 

Then they lay the lovers in the waiting, loved blessed ground

at the very spot so long before where the two had each the other’s love found,

Their children and close friends stood with flowing tears wetting fresh dug soil,

used then to forever cover the resting pair in peace to stay

To rest from many long years of earthly toil

Each aged lover beneath a blanket of soft and fertile soil

 

And above the graves, the clowns grew tall

from summer to late that fall.

While crowns, atop each stem, nature placed as a cover,

that forever grows, each summer, above each sleeping lover.

Read Full Post »

Midweek and cold outside. Am writing a new poem which I hope I can edit and post today on here and also on my other blogs. I think my readers will like it. It is a love poem about fields, flowers, children, and summer. Lots of wind and rain yesterday, will be dry and clear today. So, until I can finish editing CLOWNS I will wave and go my way, but you can definitely stay and read and comment should you feel that way.  Best to you all this fine morning. I am The Poet in the Rain. Gordon Kuhn

Read Full Post »

TO LET THE MUSIC FLOW

April 4, 2011

Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn

 

It’s one AM, the dogs are loudly snoring at my feet.

My wife lies peaceful dreaming in a nearby silent room.

But——but, I am glued, held fast by unseen forces to this seat,

While words, lyrics, verses paint pictures in my head that loom,

Larger than life itself, and I could never hope to contain.

I try to focus, to keep the moments clear and maintain

In rational form to understand, but the position, I cannot sustain.

As they dance, dip and sway, for they simply carry me away.

In a sudden rush, in a momentary hush

Where the sounds that I hear become so rich and lush

And, I know I cannot force them here to stay.

I have no right to try to retain

but let them freely pass, to go.

To let the music simply flow.

 

It’s one AM, the sky is black outside.

The stars are there but doing their very best to hide,

As worlds of words swirl about my head,

rich images of distant places my thoughts are fed

I hear the music of distant lands and find my thoughts are gently spread,

In rapture, between heaven and hell, and beyond the gates of each

And I wonder what the muse is trying me to teach.

I know in my heart, I cannot hold the dreams in place

Only memories of the music can I ever hope on paper to trace.

I must let them freely pass, to freely go.

I must learn to let the music flow.

 

Read Full Post »

CROSSING

April 2, 2011

Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn

 

 

T’was a soft and loving summer’s night

that stood close and kissed a winter’s dawn

the warmth of long days had slowly cooled

and fall’s chill had painted pooled

a gift of basketless leaves and flowers strewn

to wither and then to dust to turn

beneath a bright and glowing autumn moon

as lengthening shadows upon the field began to loom

and creatures large and small

furred and feathered, short and tall

began to venture forth to creep into the room

while aged the world before me ran

yet t’was young and still spry as the new born fawn

that I spied one early sleepy morn

as it strutted and danced across my lawn

in love with life it jumped and pranced

while I crept as close as I could have chanced

then while embers from a fire close by

cracked and popped and began to lose their heat and die

I stood quiet as the soft tan creature passed

while in silence each found the other’s eye

and with gentleness we both touched the other’s face

and across its muzzle my fingers traced

while its warm short breaths my throat and face embraced

 

Read Full Post »

THE VIOLIN

THE VIOLIN

3/18/11

Copyright 2011 Gordon L Kuhn

http://www.Poetintherain.com

Once,

years ago

I felt,

I touched

a violin,

just once,

I was shown

A note

How to play

Just one note

Once,

years ago

I touched a bow

To the strings

And

And was seduced

Once

Just once

years ago

Read Full Post »

 

THE PENGUIN

3/17/11

Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn

 

I woke one night in early May

Of some forgotten year

and I blush to say the date I don’t recall

The number, sadly, wasn’t written on the wall

And the memory of such it was did not stay

Perhaps——memories

Perhaps memories themselves have something to fear

Of being eaten by something much bigger

That might wander in from out of shadows——far to close, far to near

So in safety they lay in hiding,

in safety biding afraid to rise up out of fear

Something close by which by circumstance would somehow trigger——

But, wasn’t Trigger the name of Roy’s fabulous old horse?

Oh——well, I am digressing——of course

I’m sure the evening before had been quite drear

as my headache, at the time, seemed all too massively clear

And stood as a reminder of why I was asleep upon the floor

Halfway to my bed from the apartment’s front door

Which, oddly, appeared through the mental haze,

at that curious time of night or day,

to be standing there, misty-like and bare-naked open

yet I was sure I had closed and locked it before

sometime entering or exiting before I lay and began to snore

perhaps the lock was broken

perhaps it was merely a reminder,

perhaps a shill someone had left lying on the nearby hill

maybe, after all, it was just a broken token

of the raucous night some hours (days?) before

But what was odd at that time of night

Or….was it time of day….

I’m really not so sure

so cannot really say

but beside me stood a well-dressed penguin

still freshly wet from the briny sea

a most handsome chap was he

in his spats and so very tall and stately thin

with what I would say was the most beaky grin

of any penguin I’ve ever yet to see

and he spoke of you and he spoke of me

and of the good, the bad, and of the sin

that someone tried upon my chest to pin

He said his name was hard to spell

So pronounced it phonetically

Very slowly, if I recall correctly the memory tell

But, gosh, I don’t recollect at all now his name,

Even though he said he’d had some fame

Just that it seemed to have the sound of distant surf

Crashing upon a rocky littered thick green turf

Far from where I lay that night or was it day

So, sadly, I’m so sorry,

Just my faded perforated memory

It tends to leak, you see

I find words and ideas simply lying about

Pictures and full-blown paragraphs

Here, there, lying in thick dust upon the floor

And I then begin to really doubt

And wonder if life is all just a pile of serigraphs

That someone bought at some local store

And came and dumped them out upon the floor

so please don’t shout, please, please don’t yell

It was a bad night, very bad, I’m sure,

if I could just recall, you see

And something——something came loose

Something unexpected broke free

And was lost in the dust therein which lay

To be then lost to me, to you, to us it failed to stay

while, from the remaining memory of it all

I do remember the penguin standing near to me

So very well dressed was he,

well dressed and fresh wet from the sea

And——how odd, I do now recall,

That he had a bull frog standing next to him

The reason?

I don’t recall him to ever say.

I’ve no earthly idea and must make an honest plea

In regards to the headache and the fact

It was the middle of the night and I’d really lost track

Or…or…”sigh”…..was it the middle of the day?

Read Full Post »

UNABLE, COLLAPSING

 

UNABLE, COLLAPSING

2/20/2011

Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn

 

I’m collapsing in pain

swept away with the shame

that I cannot capture and hold

the words and phrases so wondrous and bold

which assault, no, no in tenderness touch

yet unaware they are how deep the knife is plunged

with every line that slips past, every beat, every sound

that sweeps me up and tears me apart

leaves me in a crumbled heap

my pen is useless

I cannot keep up

how sad it is to see them fade

from the field from the glade

of flowered birth

oh, God, how I am swept away in pain

adrift, alone, tired, and in shame.

 

Read Full Post »

OVERRUN

OVERRUN

2/20/2011

Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn

 

Don’t ask me to stop my mind from rushing forward

don’t look for me to block the flow of thought

gushing words from an unwritten book which ought

to be published freely within my mind

open and unlined the contents seek me out

unseen by all but me they fly at my waking thought

more quickly than control is able to hold in place

they consume the space and leave little behind, no trace

they were there unless I capture and place them on a page

in sometimes a rage of flow where my heart is torn apart

for lack of ability to get it down, to place it where it might be sought

by others before the fading of the day as darkness grows

amid the rush the knowledge lost emptiness sows.

Read Full Post »

THE DOCUMENT

THE DOCUMENT

2/20/2011

Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn

 

And so comes the dawning of the day

slowly, progressively from the east

the night is moving on, unable to stay

always chasing, being chased by the sun

the moon slips into hiding

sometimes to reveal itself during the day

a thin pale slip of light reflected high over our heads

unlike the brightness shown while we lay in our beds

and all the while we go about our lives riding

our planet in its turn around the sun

life for us is so much on the run

between the day and the night

which live in harmony without any fight

they coexist in beauty within our open sight

yet we fail to learn from the grand scheme laid out before

instead we continue to try control and fail to restore

that which we could while nature moves a lesson which is to implore

to entreat its children standing before the door

of destiny to realize we have so much to gain

instead we choose to openly and dangerously stain

the gifts given without any request for payment laid

before us as the document is simply, bold stamped as being paid.

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »