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Archive for the ‘Love’ Category

http://www.amazon.com/Widows-Cliff-other-Poems-ebook/dp/B004TGUZ10

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THE FUNERAL PYRE

THE FUNERAL PYRE

5/20/2011

Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn “Poet in the Rain”

The following is a poetic reflection on

All the Beautiful Things

written by author Andrew Meek.

====================================

The flames licked and sucked upon the food,

T’was fed the crackling heart of fire lent;

As papers, memories, laughter, all the beautiful things, loves past mood

Orange, red, and curling grey rose and ate until all was spent.

Nothing there was to be kept.

All there over each had been wept.

A slender hand fed food the glowing, hungry, naked beast,

Which ate so hungrily the memories stained with fallen tears

And, how oddly, she, the igniter of the flames, not in the least,

Came to realize, burning memories set her free, reduced her fears.

Nothing in memory or tangible she brought there was to be kept.

All brought there over each had been silent wept.

That all that had been or was to be, had come and gone now with the ticking of passing time

As memories had failed to stand with her neither strong nor true

Alone, now, she watched dreams reduce to ashes, and heard a distant church bell chime

And then, in deep and stark awareness knew, she had stood true to herself and seen the issue through.

Nothing else in memory had been for her that day was kept.

All that was or could have been over each had been silently wept.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

 

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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

 

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THE VIOLIN # 2

Violin after Jakobus Stainer 18th. century

Image via Wikipedia

THE VIOLIN

3/18/11

Copyright 2011 Gordon L Kuhn

http://www.Poetintherain.com

 

Once,

years ago

I felt,

I touched

a violin!

Just the once.

It was gently placed

within my hands,

and I was shown

a single note,

and how to play

just the one note.

Once,

years ago,

and as I touched the bow

to the strings

which lay silent waiting

waiting for the barely felt touch,

and

as it sang out

as the bow crossed lightly

over the tightly stretched

and silent waiting strings

I was seduced!

My soul was lifted free

to dance alone in the sky

swept away by the single note

above where no one could see

and as the one note pierced the evening air

it touched me so soft and so gentle fair

as would a lover’s fingertips follow curves

and brought joy beyond belief

the first love

the first kiss

Once, just the once

I found myself to have been seduced

So gently taken

So softly led

to a waiting bed of music laid

so many years ago.

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MORNING COMES


MORNING COMES

3/8/2011

Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn

 

The morning comes as morning surely does

and I arise to find a cup of steaming coffee waiting there

for my lovely bride her hand has made

a healthy pot for us to share.

 

Then comes toast and marmalade

two basted eggs and, oh yes, some bacon please

which beside the toast upon the plate is laid

a lovely hostess and service with such amazing ease.

 

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A LIGHT RAIN SWEPT THE LANE

3/8/2011

Copyright 2011 Gordon Kuhn

Poet in the Rain

 

A light rain, soft, comes tapping on the window pane

a brief rumbling growl, low, no threat drifted over the darkened lane

and flowers awoke and kissed the dew that fell lightly upon their heads

while all the neighbors nearby at home lay sleeping in their beds

and missed the wonder of the night unfold in the dark so close outside

but I alone awake saw it all quietly watching through my window pane

then turned and sleepy slipped softly back in bed my wife beside

where I lay and gently kissed each fingertip of my sleeping bride.

 

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